A Thread of Time
by F Marrese
Summary: Harry/Tom Riddle. At Voldemort's defeat Harry is sent back in time to find himself in the company of a sly snake and a curious Slytherin boy called Tom Riddle. M/M Slash
1. Chapter 1

It was with a well-timed _Avada Kedava_ and a heap of smouldering Horcrux remains that Harry Potter defeated one of the Darkest wizards of the century for the final time. It occurred on a Tuesday morning on the 19th of December, 1996, and brought the Death Eater invasion of Hogwarts to a halt.

A confused silence descended upon Hogwarts' grounds. The eyes of cautious students and fearful Death Eaters fell upon the young man who abruptly fell to his knees, dropping his wand and clutching his famous scar with a throaty scream.

Only a short pause prolonged the pained cries of surprised Death Eaters as their dreaded Dark Marks finally began to burn away. Voldemort had taken the wards down moments before, which allowed the Aurors to Apparate onto the school grounds, to the relief of the surviving students.

It was briefly noted that Harry Potter staggered up and into the Forbidden Forest, one hand remaining on his scar and his other grasping his wand, but sight of him was lost in the relieved bustling and shouting of the students.

In next to no time at all, the injured were rounded up and the Death Eaters were shifted off to Azkaban once again.

It was hours later that Madam Pomfrey, facing the remaining Hogwarts staff, declared Harry Potter to be comatose.

-

It was snowing. Feathery white flakes floated lightly past the window, and Harry soon lost count of them. In the far distance he observed the invincible North Tower, which remained imposing and upright through the onslaught of white.

It took a second for him to discern the warm substance beginning to drip its way uncaringly down his nose and into his tired eyes, burning them. With exhausted frustration he brought his hand to his face and took it away covered in warm blood from his scar.

Using the window ledge as support, Harry dragged himself up to lean against the wall, a tired sigh forcing its way past his lips. With more than a little effort he forced his numb limbs to move down the icy cold corridor.

The cold chilled one's bones in this empty part of the castle, and the screaming silence made its corridors and abandoned classrooms no less portentous. Most of the students had left for the Christmas term, particularly now that parents were alarmed at the threat of a Death Eater invasion on the unguarded school.

With these gloomy thoughts Harry entered the nearest empty classroom and slumped inside against the door. To him it seemed that many things, such as the red fluid painlessly flowing from his tingling scar, obstinately refused to change. Unless, in his case, for the worse.

He conjured a mirror and stared glumly at his reflection.

His face was pale with the cold and made the deep ominous red of his scar even more noticeable. With the absence of his glasses, his vivid green eyes stared out defiantly, contrasting interestingly with the red.

It had been Hermione's idea to enhance Harry's vision with a spell that had, inevitably, aided him in previous encounters with Death Eaters. He was certainly grateful, as he no longer had to worry about breaking or losing his glasses.

Lank, coal black locks fell into his face. His hair had grown somewhat, reaching his shoulders and taming the unruliness to an extent. It was with a sense of relief on Harry's part that he had finally acquired his own look, no longer the young equivalent of James Potter. He took regular joy in mentally rubbing that fact into Professor Snake's unsightly face. Harry was tired of being compared to his father.

Although slouched against the foot of the door, Harry could see he had grown quite a bit during the summer. He was much taller now; he almost reached Professor Lupin's height. One thing had stayed the same: despite his recent move into Grimmauld Place, he had kept the thin and exhausted look from staying at the Dursleys', rather than growing healthier as he usually did when returning to Hogwarts. Harry could not remember the last time he had felt relaxed and carefree. It was all Voldemort's fault.

Voldemort. Lord bloody Voldemort, the second most powerful wizard alive, and Harry was expected to kill him. Harry, who was only in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Who knew when Voldemort would attack? He may not even attack at all. He might hibernate throughout the winter and ambush them when summer arrived.

Harry's thoughts shifted onto Sirius. He had finally accepted his godfather's death and moved into Grimmauld Place the day of his sixteenth birthday, to the dismay of both Dumbledore and the Weasleys. Harry had made it adamantly clear that he refused to return to the Dursleys ever again.

He hated the Dursleys almost as much as he hated Voldemort, and both Voldemort and the Dursleys hated him. It was one of the few things that he could rely on to never change.

-

Blearily Harry woke up. He pushed himself up from the bitterly cold stone floor, thoughts confused as to why he was lying uncomfortably in the middle of a corridor in the first place. With a frown, he stood and stretched, trying to get some circulation into his stiff limbs and finding that his robes were entirely damp with blood.

He staggered to the nearest bathroom and began to clean himself up, still somewhat bewildered. He was positive that his scar had not bled quite that profusely. At length he banished the robes; he needed to order news ones anyway. That left him in plain jeans and a dark shirt.

Soon he was looking marginally healthier, though still tired and pale. Harry wondered what to do now. He quickly dismissed the idea of hunting down Ron and Hermione, as they had likely discovered an empty cupboard somewhere, and Harry was not particularly eager to know what they were up to.

Instead, he meandered away from the bathroom and descended several staircases. It was disturbingly quiet, and there was not a soul to be seen. Not many students had stayed for the Christmas term, but the castle did not usually remain this silent, especially as it was nearing dinner.

Harry reached the grand staircase that led down to the Entrance Hall. There was still no sound; no professors, nothing. Usually around this time of year Hogwarts would be filled with Christmas cheer.

With a sigh, he sat on one of the bottom steps and stared glumly at Hogwarts' huge wooden doors. He was definitely not going to venture out into the freezing cold. Where _was_ everyone?

"_Mice, mice, tasty mice, where are you, my lovelies? I am hungry, very hungry, yes."_

Harry blinked and looked around. A snake? A second later he spotted it slithering just below the first step, making for the shadows near the staircase.

Feeling bored and lonely, Harry spoke up. "_Hello there."_

The snake stopped abruptly, then turned and rose slightly so that it could look at him. Its colouring was dark, and it had a long pattern of black markings on its scales. It was about two to two and a half feet long. Judging by the pattern of its markings, Harry decided it was an adder.

"_You can speak?" _it demanded, its pointy head cocked to the side.

"_Yep." _Harry went to kneel down beside it. _"What is your name?"_

"_Name?"_

"_Err." _Harry scratched his head. Snakes weren't familiar with names? He tried, _"What shall I call you?"_

"_I am a Vipera. And I am hungry for tasty mice. Goodbye."_

"_Wait!" _Harry exclaimed before the snake could leave, and then he realized how ridiculous he sounded, pleading with a small snake.

He bit his lip and mentally cursed himself for being such a loser. But he had nothing else to do; his friends had pretty much abandoned him lately, and the castle seemed to be empty. _"Can we be friends?"_

The snake looked at him and swayed a bit, as though considering the possibility of befriending a human.

"_Only if you help me catch mice," _it declared eventually, its forked tongue flicking in and out as if licking its lips.

Harry blinked at the sheer Slytherin-ness of the creature. Well, it was not as if he had anything better to do than catch mice. Harry readily agreed and followed the snake down a corridor.

"_I still don't know what to call you,"_ he stated on the way. _"I can't just call you 'Vipera'."_

"_My nest calls me the young one,"_ the snake explained as it turned to go in a crack in the wall.

In the end Harry concluded that he would simply have to talk to the snake to get its attention, rather than give it a name. Before it could disappear into the crack, Harry told it to wait.

"_Accio _mouse," he muttered, and as he had hoped, the nearest mouse zoomed towards him.

He leant down and gave it to the delighted snake.

"_So your magic is useful for something after all!" _it hissed excitably before it slid into the crack with the blatant intention of devouring its meal.

Harry watched with bored amusement. It was then that he heard someone hurrying down the corridor.

Rising readily, Harry awaited the approach of the footsteps. At seeing the face of the stranger turning the corner, Harry froze

Tom Riddle was dead. While Voldemort remained, Tom Riddle, his young equivalent, had been destroyed via the diary in the Chamber of Secrets a few years before. By Harry, no less. Therefore, Tom Riddle could no longer exist.

So why was he standing a few meters away in old-fashioned Slytherin robes, wand casually out, staring at Harry through dangerously narrowed eyes.

Harry already had his wand at the ready, warily awaiting the inevitable drawn-out speech.

Riddle took a step toward him. "Who are you?" he demanded, his dark eyes narrowing further. "Who were you talking to?"

Harry frowned momentarily, unsure of what was going on. He glanced down to the crack where the snake had taken its meal.

"A friend," he answered carefully, returning his eyes to Riddle's face. Where were all the students? Where were the professors, particularly Dumbledore? Something strange was definitely occurring.

There was a pause as Riddle appeared to consider something, while watching him boldly.

Harry decided to play dumb. This couldn't be the _real_ Riddle, else he'd be trying to kill, threaten or hurt Harry. "I'm Harry Potter. Who are you?"

His rival arched an eyebrow in response. "I am sure that is none of your concern. I have never seen you in the castle before. What House are you in?"

Harry stared. This could not be happening. The only possibility of his ever meeting an ignorant sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle would be…

Time travel.

But that notion was impossible. Harry hadn't used a Time-Turner in years. He even remembered destroying them all at the Ministry last year when fighting the Death Eaters with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna. Even if there were any Time-Turners left, he certainly would not have chosen Tom Riddle's era as a place to visit. And that still didn't explain the castle's emptiness.

He realized with a jolt that Riddle was waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat and paused. "I think there's been a…misunderstanding," he said. _That's one way of putting it,_ he thought.

"Oh?" Even at sixteen, the Dark Lord had a demanding air. Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the feeling that Tom Riddle remained as handsomely dark as he had been in the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry then remembered Dumbledore explaining that many of the professors, including Headmaster Armando Dippet, had favoured Tom as a student; he was intelligent, charming and talented. He was also slightly insane, terrifying and constantly bent on revenge. At least, that was Harry's opinion.

Harry chose to ignore the questioning tone. The situation was awkward and Riddle appeared content to simply stare at him in an appraising manner. "Have you seen Professor Dumbledore recently? I'd like to speak with him."

Tom frowned slightly before his expression quickly resumed neutral indifference. "I believe he is running an errand for the Headmaster out of school," he replied smoothly.

Harry gnawed at his lip, finally feeling the first strands of fear. This could not possibly be good. "Is the Headmaster here, then?"

"Of course. He is most likely in his office."

Harry blinked. "Thanks," he said hesitantly, before making to walk around Riddle.

"He will be on his way to the Great Hall for dinner soon. Why don't you let me accompany you to his office after we have eaten?"

Harry came to a halt next to Tom and watched him cautiously. They were close. Tom was an inch or two taller than him, and other than Tom's hazel eyes and lack of a scar, Harry knew they looked very similar.

"All right," he agreed carefully. There were not really any other options but to go along with it. He could hardly go on a hunt for Dumbledore. Life outside the castle could be completely different from Harry's time. For once, Harry acknowledged that leaving the castle would be too dangerous.

He was about to move forward again when he felt Tom's hand on his arm. Harry met his vivid gaze.

"Aren't you going to collect your… friend?" the Slytherin asked, slowly pocketing his wand.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow before moving to kneel beside the crack. _"Finished yet?"_

"_Quite." _The snake's head poked out from the crack. Its gaze went from Harry to Tom, and it seemed to lick its lips before it returned to Harry.

"_Carry me, since you are my friend." _

Harry rolled his eyes but held his arm out for the snake nevertheless. It accepted and climbed up to settle around his shoulders. Harry made sure it was comfortable before turning to Tom.

Tom stood very still, his expression unreadable. His gaze settled on Harry's snake.

"Impressive," he murmured before gesturing the way to the Great Hall.

"_The castle is full of tasty mice,"_ the snake mused, head swaying on Harry's shoulder.

"_And friends?"_ Riddle asked as they began to move, making Harry feel extremely uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't place. Maybe it was just disturbing that he and Voldemort shared a private language of their own, privy only to snakes.

"_And friends," _the snake agreed, flicking its tongue in Harry's ear.

Harry jumped slightly before scowling at it. "_Don't __do__ that."_

The snake hissed delightedly as though laughing, and Harry picked up on the sudden amusement that shone briefly in Tom's eyes.

"What did you say your name was?" Tom asked again.

"Harry," he answered, feeling a bit less uneasy. "Harry Potter."

"I'm Tom Riddle. It's… nice to meet you, Harry. Perhaps we could be friends?"

Harry almost faltered in his step. Tom Riddle did not have friends. Harry knew this to be a fact. Riddle had simply used his 'friends' when it suited him. And Tom had just offered his friendship…? But Harry could play at this game; hell, he could use it to his own advantage. Any information he found out now might be useful when he returned to his own time.

"Sure, Tom."

The other boy looked vaguely pleased.

It was with a stream of worried thoughts that Harry walked side-by-side with Tom Riddle in the direction of the Great Hall.

-

"What House are you in?"

"Er," Harry replied, leaving a too-long pause in his mental scurry for an answer.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "You haven't been Sorted? I suppose you are a transfer student?"

Harry immediately latched onto the excuse. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

They came to a halt at the entrance to the Hall, which was filled to the brim with chattering students.

Harry frowned. "Where shall I sit?"

Tom took a light hold of Harry's elbow and manoeuvred him towards the Slytherin table.

"You can sit with me. You will most likely be in Slytherin anyway, since you have the gift of Parseltongue."

Right, gift, Harry thought as he sat beside Tom. Immediately he had the attention of the surrounding Slytherins, some of whom had features he recognized.

"Who is this?" a good looking boy with light brown hair and eyes directed his eyes to Harry as he addressed Tom.

"This is Harry, a transfer student. He will be Sorted soon," Tom replied as he filled his plate with food, not even sparing the boy a glance.

The boy raised an indifferent brow before turning fully to Harry. He held out a hand. "Stefan Avery. I am– is that a snake?"

Harry was trying to absorb the fact that this was an Avery when he realized what Stefan meant. The snake had wound itself round Harry's neck and was peering at the roast chicken on Tom's plate with a suggestive hiss.

Harry gave it an annoyed look. "_Stop that_," he told it, ignoring the quiet gasps of the others. He carefully put the snake in his lap and loaded his plate with meat for it. When it gave a satisfied hiss in reply, he turned back to the watchful eyes of the Slytherins.

"A greedy snake," Tom mused as he watched Harry interestedly.

There was a pause.

"You're a parselmouth!" a young girl exclaimed. She looked like a third or fourth year student.

Harry began to eat, already tired of the stares.

"Well observed," the boy on Harry's other side said dryly. "I'm Dorian, by the way," He slid Harry a glance. "You'll have to excuse the stupidity of the lower years. Occasionally it gets slightly out of hand."

The young girl blushed and turned away from them. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to make observations. The dark haired girl sitting opposite him was eating while reading the book in her lap. She had a Head Girl badge, so she must have been a seventh year.

"I'm Cedrella Black," she said suddenly without looking up. She must have felt Harry staring.

"A Black who fails to live up to her name," someone else piped in.

Cedrella's head snapped up and her grey eyes narrowed. She had the same eyes as Sirius, Harry realized. He felt a pang of pain and turned to look somewhere else. He met Tom's gaze. The other boy was watching him with something akin to vague fascination.

"If I were you I would keep my objections to myself, Bulstrode," Cedrella said quietly, her eyes narrowing further. Harry followed her gaze and found himself looking into the face of a very pretty dark skinned girl with long black locks and deep black eyes.

Bulstrode smirked at him. "What do you think, _Harry_? Should the very respectable name of Black be tainted by one of its owners dating the inferior kind?"

Harry decided to play the game, ignoring the way the other student' eyes followed the snake as it slid up his chest and around his shoulders.

He stared at her. "Define 'inferior kind'."

"I hardly need to define anything. It's clear that the only inferior things around here are those disgusting half-breeds. Not to mention the wizards of respectful families who have the effrontery to mix with such _foul-_"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, do shut up," Dorian interrupted loudly, drawing a snort from Cedrella. "If I have to hear one more lecture on the foulness of foul blood, someone is going to die quite painfully." He turned to Harry, who found himself smiling amusedly. "Pass the potatoes, if you would."

Harry passed them. He silently agreed with the boy that listening to talk of 'foul blood' all day was not exactly the most interesting thing in the world. He wondered what Tom thought of the half-breed bit. He was a half-blooded wizard after all. Another thing they had in common.

A glance at the boy told him nothing. Tom appeared to be in deep thought as he ate, ignoring the others around him.

"So, Harry," the Bulstrode girl said, her eyes boring into the side of Harry's skull. He turned to her, a bored expression mastering his features.

"What school did you attend before you came to this… establishment?"

Harry blinked, racking his brain for an answer. "I was home-schooled," he said finally, before going back to his meal.

"Really?" Dorian perked up. "What exactly does that involve? Did you learn the same subjects?"

"I don't know; what exactly _are_ the subjects?"

"Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, you name it."

Bulstrode snorted. "Pointless subjects. We ought to look more into the arts of the dark, wherein-"

"Anyway," Dorian said loudly, causing the others to snicker and Bulstrode to glare at him.

Harry gave him an amused look. He immediately liked this Dorian, who seemed more easy-going than the rest. He wondered what his surname was. Harry asked.

"Rosier. Dorian Rosier. Pass the chicken, if you would be so kind."

Bemused, Harry did as asked. He only knew of one other Rosier, and that had been a Death Eater called Evan. Did that mean that Evan was Dorian's son, or something?

He started when he realized Dorian was trying to get his attention. "Sorry, what?"

The boy gave him an amused smile, and Harry caught his breath. God, the guy was gorgeous when he smiled. He had dark, shoulder length hair and blue, dreamy eyes. Harry mentally scolded himself for sounding so sappy.

"I said, what's your surname?"

"Oh right, Potter."

Harry received several surprised looks.

"How are you related to Charlus Potter?" Bulstrode asked curiously.

Charlus Potter? Harry had no idea who he was, since no one had explained James' history to him. "He's my cousin," Harry tried. "You… wouldn't have heard of me before."

That earned him even more curious looks than before. Harry inwardly cursed himself. Oh well, it would have to come out eventually. He sighed. "I'm a half-blood."

Bulstrode spat out the drink she had in her mouth in shock. Dorian scowled at her in disgust. Cedrella had looked up to stare at Harry strangely, and Tom was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

Harry scowled before sighing again, although he was suddenly fearful. "I suppose I'm not worthy now?" he asked sarcastically.

Dorian sniggered next to him. "Of course not. We can't have the foul blood of the inferior kind mixing with our greatness, after all."

Harry gave him a relieved smile. Yes, Dorian was very nice…

Harry turned to face Tom. "What about you? Are we still… friends?"

There was a silence as everyone held their breath. It was then Harry realized how much respect the students had for Tom. Anything he said was considered important to them. It was now that determined whether Harry was going to suffer here if not. If Tom refused his friendship, then…

"Of course. It is hardly your fault if your mother was a… muggle-born," Tom said, his hand on Harry's thigh.

"That doesn't explain why we have not heard of you before," Cedrella spoke up.

Harry turned to her. "Well, who would want a half-breed in a line of purebloods? Better to hide it away so that no one could see the disgrace of the family," he finished bitterly, thinking of his time with the Dursleys. In their family, he was the disgrace. Luckily, the story he had completely made up seemed convincing enough.

Dorian patted his thigh. "There, there," he said with amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes at him.

"Well I personally don't blame them," Bulstrode retorted. "If there was a half-breed in _my _family, they would certainly be locked away, if not disowned completely." She shot a scornful look at Cedrella.

"Then I'm very glad I'm not in your family," Harry said blankly, staring at her. She looked away uncomfortably.

"So why are you here now, then?" Cedrella asked, looking honestly curious. The book in her lap lay forgotten.

Harry gave a slight shrug. "I don't know. They didn't bother explaining anything to me. I suppose they finally came to accept that there isn't a lot they can do about it since it will come out eventually."

Cedrella nodded slowly in understanding. She turned to Tom.

"You're being exceptionally quiet, today, Tom," she said.

Tom's hazel eyes settled on her. "My mind is occupied with other things," he said absently.

"Clearly."

"_I'm bored," _the snake said, its tongue flicking in Harry's ear.

Harry scowled at it. _"Go and find some mice, then."_

"_I don't need anymore mice. Entertain me."_

"_Maybe later."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because."_

"_Because what?"_

"_Because I said so."_

"_But I am bored and you are my friend."_

"_So?"_

"_So you have to make me happy."_

Harry frowned. _"You have a twisted idea of what 'friend' means." _

"_You humans make no sense."_

Tom chuckled in amusement. Harry glanced at him.

"Are you finished, Harry?"

"Yeah." He stood, the snake still on his shoulders, and followed Tom out of the Hall. They soon lost the crowd of other students as they made their way to Dumbledore's office. Dippet's office, Harry corrected himself. He could not afford to make mistakes.

Tom stopped suddenly, and pulled Harry into an empty classroom, the door shutting behind them.

Harry blinked as the taller boy turned to face him. "What is it?" he asked, curious, while his hand was itching to grab his wand and hex the Slytherin.

"I would simply like a few answers," Tom said, moving so stand a mere foot away from Harry, his wand flicking at the door. Locking it.

Harry suddenly felt the disturbing urge to move closer to the boy. He thought better of it. "Such as?" he managed.

"I was simply wondering, Harry, why the similarities between us both are so astounding."

Harry gulped silently, but Tom went on.

"I will list them if you wish. We are both Parselmouths. We are both 'halfbloods' as they call it, although I would be very pleased if you did not repeat that elsewhere. We look similar. And I can tell you are lying, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened. Had he been caught so easily? What if the others had noticed, and were just playing along? Oh god, what if this Charlus Potter turned out to be an old senile man, and so couldn't possibly be Harry's 'cousin'? "…About what?"

Tom moved closer, his eyes narrowed. "You are a convincing liar, but I can see through it. I may not know the truth of your distorted background but I can clearly see that you have no idea as to who Charlus Potter is."

Harry frowned. Then sighed in defeat. "Alright, fine. You've got me. You win."

Tom appeared slightly taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"Congratulations, you've caught me out. Now, what?"

Tom frowned slightly, before smirking. "Like I said, I would appreciate some answers. What is your real name?"

Harry shook his head. "I wasn't lying about my name. It really is Harry Potter."

"How did you become a parselmouth?"

Harry pursed his lips and looked away.

"Let's try this a different way, shall we?"

He suddenly felt the smooth wood of Tom's wand against his throat. _Crap_, he thought. How did he manage to get himself into these situations?

"I can't tell you," he said, meeting Tom's intense gaze. They were now centimetres apart.

"I'm quite sure you can."

"No really, I can't. It will mess up the future," Oh god, why was he saying this? Well, as long as he didn't give anything important away… But then, this was Tom Riddle. He might force the information out of Harry, but in subtler ways. He might attempt to use Legilimency. Luckily Harry was skilled by now in Occlumency.

Tom appeared interested. "Oh? Do explain."

"I'm… okay, I don't know how I got here, but one minute I'm in the year 1996 and the next I'm sitting in the Astronomy Tower in _this_ time."

Tom's expression didn't change. In fact, he moved closer still, appearing intrigued.

"Go on," he said.

Harry backed away slightly, frowning. "Come on, you must know that time travel is dangerous. I can't go around spilling the secrets of the future to everyone. And while I'm here, I have to improvise."

Tom sighed and removed his wand. "Fine, but at least answer me this: are we related?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. _"Related?" _

"Yes. It would explain the similarities quite clearly if, say, you were my son."

Harry stared. Then he began to laugh, somewhat hysterically. Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort's son? What a horrible thought, Harry mused silently. He noted that Tom looked slightly perplexed at Harry's outburst.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, composing himself. "No, I can quite honestly say that we are not related, and that I am most certainly not your son."

Tom's eyes narrowed. He looked slightly offended. "And what exactly would be wrong with being related to me?"

Harry made an exasperated sound. "Look, it's not that, it's just that you murdered my-" Oh, crap. Harry snapped his mouth shut and turned to open the door before he spouted anything else.

Suddenly he was spun around again.

T om looked somewhat annoyed, he noted. "I killed your what? Your family? Your brother, sister? Your parents?"

Harry tensed at that - and Tom felt it.

"So," Tom stated as he released Harry. "In the future, I killed your parents," Harry noticed with anger that the other boy seemed completely unconcerned about this. "And you miraculously have the ability to speak with snakes. And, somehow, you managed to transport yourself back in time. In particular, to _my _time. Is that not a coincidence?"

Harry supposed it was. He shrugged and tried to turn again when he was abruptly pushed up against the door.

How in Merlin's beard did he get himself into this mess?


	2. Chapter 2

Harry did not know what to think as he sullenly made his way to Dippet's office with Tom marching behind him. What had Riddle expected? Harry could hardly explain to him that he had become the second most powerful wizard in Britain and that his hobbies included hunting down Muggle-borns and generally attempting to kill Harry.

And when Tom had gotten bored with questioning Harry and decided to use Legilimency on him, he had found himself stumbling back with the force of Harry's Occlumency. But that had hardly been Harry's fault. It was generally acknowledged that prying into someone else's mind is fairly unacceptable.

Then Tom had narrowed his eyes dangerously and ordered Harry to see Dippet.

By the time they reached the frustrating gargoyle, Harry had a fairly annoying headache. Why was everything so irritating all of a sudden?

Tom gave the password and Harry followed him up the worn spiral staircase. A second later they were admitted into the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, Tom. It is good to see you. And who, might I ask, is this?"

Headmaster Armando Dippet sat behind the same desk that Dumbledore had occupied in Harry's time. Other than that, the office was different. Instead of pensieves, trinkets and other strange magical objects to litter the shelves, the walls were completely lined with well-worn books.

The Headmaster himself was an ordinary, thin, weary-looking man with a smile that hardly reached his eyes. His brown hair was short and greying and the eyes that flickered to Harry were mildly curious.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Tom answered smoothly. "This is Harry Potter. I'll let him explain why he is here."

Harry frowned at Tom as he moved to stand aside. "What year is it?" he asked suddenly. Why had he not bothered to ask before?

Dippet raised an eyebrow. "I believe it is October 5th, 1944."

"Oh. Well, in my time, it's December 20th, 1996."

"Excuse me?"

"There… must have been an accident. I was… I don't know what I was doing before, but I woke up in the Astronomy Tower in _this_ time."

"Are you trying to inform me that you have had a time-travel accident?"

"Well…. I guess so."

"And how exactly is that possible? I have heard of only one magical object that can transport a wizard through time, and even now it still does not work as expected."

Harry frowned. "You mean a time-turner?"

"I believe that is what it is called, yes."

"Oh. Well, I don't remember using one of those. At least, not in the last couple of years."

Dippet leaned forward slightly, a frown on his face. "Please elaborate."

"I used one once to help my Godfather… he was a fugitive and they were about to give him the Dementor's Kiss. But that's irrelevant. Look, I don't know what happened. I can't remember how I got here, or what I was doing before I got here. I can't tell you what's going on, so don't ask. It could completely mess up the future. And though you may not want to believe me, I can't leave Hogwarts. I have no idea what life outside is like right now. And this place is all I have left anyway."

Harry sighed. He was so tired. He sat down wearily in one of the chairs.

"Alright… Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up.

"I will allow you to remain in the castle. However, we have nothing to prove that you are who you say you are, and you must understand that it is dangerous to admit a stranger into the castle without any background information."

Harry's shoulders slumped. What was he going to do?

"Headmaster," Tom spoke up. "Perhaps he could be accepted as a transfer student at Hogwarts until he finds an adequate way to return to his time. It is the story he fed many of the other students, after all. It should be around the school soon."

The Headmaster nodded slowly. "Yes, that seems to be a good idea. However, I must consult the Deputy Headmaster on this." He stood and moved around his desk, taking a handful of what looked like floo powder and throwing it into the fire. "Albus Dumbledore."

Harry felt relief flood him. Dumbledore would know what to do, even if he did not know Harry in this time. Dumbledore was safe. Harry glanced at Tom, to find the other boy watching him with a blank expression. Unnerved by the stare, Harry looked away.

"You called, Armando?" Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire. Harry noticed that the familiar face looked much younger; certainly less tired. The twinkle in the wizard's eyes was still there.

"I did. We have an unusual situation." Professor Dippet gestured towards Harry, who found himself meeting Dumbledore's gaze. He held his breath, wondering what to expect.

"A new student?" Dumbledore asked.

"In a way. There seems to have been an accident. Mr. Potter here claims to be from the year 1996. How, or why he arrived in our time, he does not know."

Harry stifled a yawn. He was going to have to sleep soon, or he might end up slumped on the floor of the Headmaster's office.

"Hold on, Armando. I will come through." Dumbledore's head vanished and a second later, the wizard stepped carefully into the room. He turned to Harry. "May I give you a spell check?"

Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded. He felt a tingling sensation as Dumbledore flicked his wand.

"Nothing," the old man said finally. Harry scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. This was getting tiresome.

"Well, Albus, what do you think? Shall we accept Mr. Potter as a transfer student or send him on his way?"

Dumbledore gave a small smile. "I believe he is harmless. But," he turned to Harry. "It would be helpful if you would answer a few questions to reassure the Headmaster that you are not a danger to the school."

"Go ahead. But if I think it will interfere with the future, then I'm not answering."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "What is your full name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"When were you born?"

"The 31st July, 1980. I'm sixteen."

"Would you mind explaining the curse-scar?"

Harry frowned. Nothing that would interfere with the future… "Yes."

"Hmm. What is your connection with the Potters?"

"I'm… not sure. James Potter is the name of my father, but he died when I was young. I don't know about his family history. I don't know who Charlus Potter is." He shot Tom a sly look.

"And your mother?"

"Lily Evans. A Muggle-born."

Dumbledore did not so much as blink at that. "I am sure blood does not need to come into this," he said. "Is your mother alive in your time?"

"No, she also died when I was young." Harry purposely avoided looking at Tom.

"How did they die?"

Harry looked away.

"Do you have any other living relatives in your time?"

"Only my… Muggle family. I hate them. Oh, and I had my godfather. But he died last year. In my time, I mean."

Harry sighed, feeling tired. Did they have to ask this?

"Where are you currently living, in your time?"

Harry scowled. "Hogwarts, mostly."

"And during the summer?"

"The Durs- Oh. My Godfather left me a house."

"What were you going to say?"

"The Durselys. They're my Muggle family. I moved out when I turned of age."

"What is your Godfather's name?"

Harry wondered if he should be telling them this. "Sirius Black."

Dippet interrupted. "No offence meant, but a Black would not leave his property to a half-blood."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I assure you, Sirius Black didn't care about ridiculous blood lines. Family is family. I think that's enough. I've told you far too much."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, before conjuring the Sorting Hat. He handed it to Harry. "I assume you know what to do?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's hardly advanced Transfiguration." He put the Hat on his head for the third time.

_Ooo, an interesting one. I can see we have met before, though at a very different time. And a Potter. Very interesting. _

Just get on with it, Harry thought.

_Impatient, I see. And you have quite a temper. But I also see bravery. And cunning! Lots of cunning… but where to put you?_

Harry's patience was beginning to wear thin. He just wanted to Sleep, damnit. The nightmares had been coming back lately, worse than ever. And Dreamless Sleep no longer worked…

_Well, well. You certainly have the potential to be great. And nightmares, you say? Very unpleasant. _

Harry mentally snorted. What would a hat know of nightmares?

_Ah, you underestimate me. Now, where was I..? Oh, yes. Greatness is definitely in store for you, my dear lad. _

But Harry did not want greatness. Harry just wanted to be normal.

_Yes, I can see that. However, I believe you will find that your potential will get in the way. I can see why I once put you in Gryffindor, but that will not do this time. _"SLYTHERIN!"

"Stupid Hat," Harry muttered as he removed the thing from his head. Dumbledore chuckled.

Oh, crap, Harry thought. _I've just been Sorted into Slytherin! What the Hell!_

"It's settled then," Dippet said, looking slightly pleased. Harry realized suddenly that Dippet had been a Slytherin. Bugger, he thought.

"Although," the man continued. "I have never seen someone wear the Hat for quite that long. Just what were you discussing?"

"Nightmares, greatness, potential that sort of thing." Harry yawned, ignoring how rude he was being. It was their own fault for taking so long.

"Oh?" Dippet looked interested.

"What are we to do with the matter of school books and robes?" Dumbledore interrupted smoothly. "Were you in Slytherin in your time?" he added, addressing Harry.

"Nope, Gryffindor."

Dippet looked flabbergasted. "What! How is that possible? You can't have the traits of both Slytherin _and _Gryffindor."

Harry shrugged. Dumbledore's eyes gleamed. Tom didn't make a sound.

"Back to the books-" Dumbledore said eventually.

"Yes, yes, I will have them ordered." Dippet went to sit at his desk. "I think it best if you have a copy of Tom's timetable. That way I will be kept informed, and Tom will be able to help if there is any trouble."

Harry sighed. "What about school robes? And other clothes?"

Dippet scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps you will have to take a trip into Diagon Alley."

"Headmaster, is that wise?" Dumbledore interrupted. "If what Mr. Potter says is true, then it will be very easy for something misfortunate to occur."

Dippet waved away his objection. "No, no, I think it will be fine. He can go with Tom and… Professor Priggs. Yes, it will be fine. In fact, you can go this weekend. That way you can get your books as well, rather than having to order them."

"Alright," Harry slowly agreed. He would have to be careful, though. "What day is it?"

"Thursday. Have tomorrow off. It looks like you need a lie-in."

Harry scowled.

"Perhaps we should let Mr. Potter sleep. I am sure Tom will escort you to your dorm," Dumbledore said.

"Of course, Professor," Tom said. Harry followed him to the door.

"One more thing, Mr. Potter," Professor Dippet said.

Harry turned to look at him.

"You must keep in mind that there will be many things that have not yet been discovered. Do not allow that knowledge to interfere with your lessons."

Harry nodded slowly. "I understand."

Finally, they left.

-

"Merlin," Harry murmured as he wandered through the corridors with Tom at his side.

The other boy soon stopped. Harry slowed and turned to look at him. Tom's expression was closed as he looked searchingly at Harry. Harry had no idea what the other boy was thinking.

"What?" he asked carefully.

Tom took a step forward. Then another.

"Um…" Harry managed as the boy ended up extraordinarily close. Fingers closed around his chin and pulled his head up so that he was forced to stare into Tom's eyes. Harry didn't object, though. He could stare into those eyes all day…

And then Tom pressed his lips to Harry's. Harry went stock still. What…? What on earth? He made to pull away when the taller boy's free arm wrapped around his waist, pulling them against each other. And then deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue into Harry's mouth.

Harry decided that that was enough. He pulled away. "Stop. What are you doing?"

Tom quirked an eyebrow at him, a suddenly amused smirk pulling at his lips. His arm was still around Harry's waist. "I should think that would be obvious."

It was not that Harry had a problem with kissing a guy. Hell, he had realized he preferred guys to girls soon after the Cho Incident. No, it was the fact that this was Tom Riddle, who had killed his parents and repeatedly tried to kill Harry. This whole thing was completely wrong. He pulled Tom's arm from his waist and took a step back.

"No," he said firmly.

Tom leant his shoulder against the wall with an amused look. "Why ever not? Is it because I killed your parents?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. Yes, that was the reason. But it was not as if he was going to admit it.

"Harry, people can be forgiven, you know." Tom moved towards him again. "Besides, I am not the person who murdered them."

Harry frowned. Yes, you are, he thought.

Tom shook his head, seeing what Harry was thinking. "No. The person I am now and the person I become are different."

"Well you've already killed _your_ family," Harry bit out, then gasped as a hand grabbed and tightened around his throat. Tom's face appeared inches away, his eyes narrowed.

"How do you know that?" He snapped angrily, eyes narrowed almost to slits.

"I… told you… I'm from… the future," Harry gasped out, struggling to breath. "Only… Dumbledore… and I… know." Tom's hand tightened, and Harry's eyes widened. "I'm sorry," he gasped out. "I don't…. blame you… though."

Tom released him and Harry staggered back, massaging his sore neck. He really ought to learn how to take control of absurd situations.

Tom seemed to be breathing hard, his eyes still narrowed. "You will not speak a word of this to _anyone_."

Harry frowned at him. "Of course I won't, it would interfere with the future. And there are a hell of a lot of other sickening things that I could tell everyone about you, but I won't do that either. It's not just your life I'm saving, here."

Tom nodded slowly. "Although, I could just Obliviate you…"

Harry shook his head. "Those don't work on me." Not after the hours upon hours of training he'd endured to block it. "Nor does the Imperius curse, before you try.

"And the Cruciatus curse?" asked Tom, his features schooled into a disinterested look that didn't fool Harry for a minute.

Harry's eyes widened. "Um…"

Tom smirked but did not make any threatening move, apparently believing that the mere _threat_ of Cruciatus would be enough to keep Harry quiet.

He then frowned slightly. "How are you so powerful?"

Harry stifled another yawn. "Can't tell you. Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to bring that up. And I won't be saying anything else about you. Now can we just go? I need to sleep at some point."

Tom nodded slowly and Harry followed him down to the dungeons, muttering, "And the Hat said _I_ have a bad temper."

Tom gave him a sly smile. "I only lose my temper when others pry into my life, dear Harry."

"Really? I'll keep that in mind."

They approached a stone wall, which Harry stared at blankly. "This isn't the entrance to the Slytherin common room from my time," he said.

"How would _you_ know where the entrance to the Slytherin common room is?" Tom demanded.

"I've been inside it, but only once."

"Oh really? Well, this isn't the regular entrance," Tom explained. "It's _my_ entrance."

Harry rolled his eyes. "How do we get in, then?"

"You'll undoubtedly be able to figure it out yourself, with one of those _talents _of yours."

Harry stared at him. What was he on about? He then looked at the stone wall. Oh, right. There was a small symbol of a snake carved into it. It would be impossible to find if one didn't know where to look. Figures.

"_Open,_" he hissed. The door obeyed, and Harry followed Tom down a dark corridor and through another similar wall.

"Here we are," Tom said as they entered a room very similar to the Gryffindor Common. It looked very much the same as it did when Harry had visited it during his second year under the guise of Polyjuice potion. Very green. It was also colder here, and darker. Candles hung everywhere on the walls and the fireplace was huge. Other than that…

"The Gryffindor Common Room is bigger," Harry mused quietly.

"That's to be expected. They are a wild group of loud, squabbling idiots as far as I can tell. They need more space."

Harry rolled his eyes. "What dorm am I staying in?"

"Dorian's, I assume. His dormitory has a spare four-poster since one of the students left a couple of years ago."

"They left?" Harry asked as they moved towards the empty chairs by the fire.

"I believe they were transferred to Durmstrang. The parents disliked the way Hogwarts is run."

"Right," Harry said, as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He stopped and swayed slightly. Tom turned.

"You need to sleep. I'll take you to your dorm."

Harry nodded absently. He followed Tom down through a door that opened to a tunnel lit by candles, which went even deeper underground.

"Tom," he said hesitantly, when they stopped. The boy turned to him.

"Yes?"

"Is it safe to ask something… personal here? You said you don't like people prying in your life, but I'd like to know."

"Yes, it is safe here. What is it?"

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. "Don't strangle me this time, please."

Tom gave him a sly smile, but did not answer.

Harry took a breath. "Alright, have you opened the Chamber of Secrets yet?"

Tom's eyes widened before narrowing venomously and his fists clenched. Harry took a step back. The taller boy looked absolutely terrifying. He then seemed to calm down.

"Yes, I have. A Muggle-born girl died, and that fool Hagrid was expelled. Are you satisfied?"

Harry folded his arms, frowning. "What's happening with the basilisk?"

"How do you know so much?" Tom demanded.

Harry shrugged, deciding to dismiss it for now. "Thanks for not trying to choke me to death, anyway." He glanced behind Tom to see three doors. "Which one?"

"The one on the right," Tom answered without turning. He took hold of Harry's chin again, making the other boy meet his burning gaze. "Be careful, Harry. Only snakes live down here."

Harry blinked, and forced himself to focus as lips met his once again in a brief kiss. Tom leant back with a small smirk, releasing him. "Goodnight, Harry."

A second later, he turned and went through the middle door without a backward glance.

-

Dressed in a clean set of spare Slytherin robes and having rid himself of the weight of exhaustion, Harry settled lightly at one of the tables in the library with a book on Slytherin genealogy and the snake on his shoulder. He had found him that morning snoozing by the fire in the Slytherin common room.

"_Aha_," Harry hissed triumphantly, "_here's a good one: 'Anton Ferrow, a branch member of the Slytherin family, and one of the few family members to inherit the rare gift of Parseltongue (ability to converse with snakes). His ideals were very similar to those of Salazar Slytherin, wherein bloodlines were…' blah, blah. You can be Anton_."

"_Anton_?" the snake hissed, its tongue flicking in Harry's ear, much to his discomfort. Absently he took a firm hold of Anton and placed him in his lap.

"_Yes. Now I don't have to refer to you as 'snake' any longer_."

He received a pleased hiss.

Harry sighed and shut the book. What was he to do now? It was approximately one in the afternoon and students were already in lessons. Carefully he replaced Anton on his shoulders and left the library to walk aimlessly through the corridors. His thoughts meandered towards his new dorm mates.

On entering the dormitory the night before, Harry had encountered Dorian sprawled on one of the four-posters, his lazy eyes watching the two sixth year boys on the other side of the room with a bored expression. Enthusiastically and with much sarcasm, he introduced them to Harry. One was Carlos Flint, a tall blond boy with sharp blue eyes who appeared to have a new girlfriend every other day. The other was a quiet, plain looking boy with light brown hair and eyes. His name was Nicholas Cole, and according to Dorian, he rarely said a word to anyone.

Bemused at the thick unwelcome he had received from the two, Harry had quickly undressed and crawled into his own four-poster.

Thinking back on it, he supposed it was unsurprising they were so wary of him. They were Slytherins, after all. Calculating, manipulative, cunning. Traits that Harry was sure he hardly had, but the Hat had discovered nevertheless.

Eventually Harry came to a halt and found himself standing in a familiar corridor. Making sure that no one was in sight, he quickly slid through the gap in the doorway to find himself in the girls' toilet.

"Myrtle?" he tried tentatively, edging around the large puddles on the floor.

A long wail answered him. She was in the last cubicle, a silvery sobbing mass on the toilet seat. She rubbed her eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

"I'm new here. An exchange student. I heard someone crying. Are you all right?"

She sniffed. "Of course I'm not all right. What do you want?"

"Well, I'd like to know some things, but I've got the day off and anyone I could ask is in lessons."

Myrtle began to look slightly interested, and the ghostly tears faded. "Like what? I'm sure _I _can answer your questions. I know all the gossip and all the secret passages in Hogwarts."

"Well," - Harry took a deep breath - "I want to know if some people attend this school. For example, is there anyone under the name of Black here?"

She looked surprised. "Of course there is. There's Alphard Black, Cedrella Black, Nathaniel Black, Corelia Black-"

"Whoa, okay, stop, stop." Harry was completely taken aback. Why were there so many? "Let's go through them one at a time, shall we? Who is Alphard Black?"

She sat up straight as though feeling important all of a sudden. "Alphard Black is the Slytherin Head Boy. His elder sister, Walburga Black, has already left Hogwarts to run off with her second cousin, Orion Black."

Walburga Black. Harry remembered her well. The screeching portrait in the front hall of Grimmauld Place. Sirius' mother. That must mean that Alphard could be the uncle who had given him a large sum of money when he ran away from home at sixteen. Sirius' name had been burned off the tapestry for befriending 'Mudbloods' (therefore disgracing the Black name), and Alphard's name had been burned off for helping him.

Well, you learn something new everyday, Harry mused silently. He realised that he had zoned out and Myrtle was watching him patiently. "Sorry, go on. I've met Cedrella Black, but I don't know much about her."

"She is the Slytherin Head girl. She's dating Septimus Weasley, a Gryffindor."

A Black dating a Weasley? Harry almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Now he understood what Bulstrode had been on about the day before. "Does her family disapprove then?"

"Oh yes. As far as I can tell, she is on the verge of being disowned."

"Really?" Harry said incredulously. "Just for dating someone they don't like?"

"It's all about bloodlines," Myrtle said as if it were obvious.

"But the Weasleys are an old pure-blooded family."

"Yes, but they are Muggleborn lovers. Many of them have been marrying into Muggleborn families in the last few years."

"All right. Who was the next one?"

"There's Nathaniel Black. He's a second year Slytherin. So is Analissa Black, his cousin. I don't know much about them. Corelia Black is a fifth year Slytherin." At this Myrtle sniffed distastefully. "She's been completely brainwashed into thinking Muggleborns are no better than slaves. The other two aren't much better, as far as I can tell."

"Okay." Harry slowly tried to absorb the information. "All right. Any more Blacks?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay. Okay."

Myrtle gave a slight giggle, which made Harry feel somewhat disturbed. "Right," he said. "Who is Charlus Potter?"

"He's a seventh year Gryffindor. Very handsome." She gazed off dreamily. "He looks a lot like you."

Harry dismissed it. "I'm also a Potter. My name is Harry. Do you know his parents' names?"

Blinking away her astonishment at his being a Potter, she said, "No, but I know he has a nephew called Henry Potter, a second year student. _His _parents are Charlotte and Harold Potter. I know that because they came to Hogwarts the day after he was sorted. They were shocked that he had been put into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor."

"..Right. Are their any more Potters here?"

"No. Any more questions?"

Harry racked his brain for more names. "Any Malfoys?" he asked suddenly. _Say no, please say no_, he thought.

"There's Claudia Malfoy. A fifth year Slytherin. She has most of the first and second year Slytherins following her lead like lost puppies."

Harry frowned. That sounded a lot like Draco Malfoy. "And?"

"Abraxas Malfoy. He's in his sixth year. He's a proud, cold hearted, disdainful prick."

Harry blinked. "All right... Thanks, Myrtle. You've been a great help."

He left before he could be witness to an onslaught of tears. There were so many Blacks. Too many to get his head around, Harry decided.

-

Despite the cold, the sun was out. Harry sat by the lake and watched a tentacle silently break the water, before slipping back in again. A glance at his watch told him students would be leaving their lessons now. Before he could rise, however, he noticed someone tall approaching. Someone he didn't recognize.

"Hey," the boy said as Harry scrambled to his feet and came face to face with a very familiar… well, face. A face like his own.

"Charlus Potter?" he asked tentatively.

The boy blinked, before a smile made its way onto his handsome face. "Yes, that's me. How did you know? I hear you're new."

"Someone pointed you out to me. Did you want something, or…?"

He raised a brow and slid his hands into his pockets. "I'm simply curious. I hadn't heard of a another Potter in the family. How are you related to us?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it, feeling at a loss. "I'm not sure," he admitted lamely.

Charlus frowned, but was silent for a short moment. "You were home-schooled?"

"Yes… But I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh?"

"It's..." Harry looked away. What was he meant to say? What excuse could he possibly come up with? He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned back to face the other boy, whose face beheld a serious expression.

"It's all right," Charlus said. "Unpleasant past?"

Harry nodded, relieved. "Sorry," he muttered.

The older boy smiled. "All right. What House are you in?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, a habit he had quickly picked up from Dorian, strangely e enough. "Slytherin. Will that be… a problem?"

The Gryffindor appeared nothing more than slightly surprised, and smiled again. "No, no, it's fine. We're not all prejudiced idiots, here."

"Oh, good. Shall we head back?"

As they began to walk, Harry asked, "How did you know I was out here?"

"I was watching you from Gryffindor Tower. I needed to know who this new Potter was."

"You still haven't really found out," Harry admitted.

The other boy shrugged. "That's not too much of a problem. You don't _look_ too dangerous."

Harry smiled. "Looks can be deceiving."

"Is that a warning?" They approached the steps leading up to the Entrance Hall.

"Something of the sort."

The Gryffindor laughed. "All right, I had better watch my back from now on. Not that I don't already, with these snakes slithering around." He motioned towards a group of seventh year Slytherins who were silently watching them pass. Harry chose to ignore them.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Dinner."

"Already?"

"Yes. You've been sitting out there quite awhile now."

They passed a few students who were milling about and entered the Great Hall. Harry thanked him for being so understanding and they parted to go to their separate tables.

He was unprepared for the onslaught that reached him as he sat down next to Marie Bulstrode.

"What were you doing talking to _him_?" she asked immediately. Harry suddenly felt the eyes of all the nearest students on him, awaiting his reply. "Well, he _is _family," he replied smoothly, loading his plate with food.

"So? He's just another Muggle sympathizer, like the rest of those idiotic Gryffindors."

Harry shrugged. "Not my problem." Ignoring her glare, he looked around, unable to see either Tom or Dorian.

"He's looking for you," Cedrella said, once again sitting opposite him. Harry turned to her.

"Who is?"

She rolled her eyes and returned to the book in her lap.

"Dearest Tom is," Bulstrode said, irritated. "Though why he likes you so much, I don't know. It's not like him to hang around with half-bloods."

Harry sighed as several of the students gasped. At the moment it was merely third and fourth years who were eavesdropping, but still…

"Perhaps he is tiring of the glorious company of pure-bloods."

"He _is_ a pure-blood, you fool," one of the younger years snapped.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Trying to destroy my reputation, Harry?" a smooth voice said behind him. Harry turned before he could feel perturbed.

Tom stood looking down at him, Dorian at his side, wearing a smirk.

"Not at all," Harry said, moving over for them both to sit down. Tom seated himself, his eyes still on Harry, but Dorian chose to spell Bulstrode's dinner over her and sit in the seat she jumped out of, screeching.

Harry felt slightly closed in with one on either side of him, though he met Tom's gaze, unafraid. "Enjoy your day?" he asked, returning to his food.

"No," Dorian said immediately. "It was entirely dull. They ought to replace most of the staff; they are all incredibly dreary."

"Does the same go for Professor Slughorn?" Cedrella asked her eyes fixed on the book.

"Dear Cedrella, you know the answer to that. We can't abandon the wonderful Slug Club, now can we?"

"Slug Club?" Harry asked, although he knew what it was: a club Horace Slughorn had accumulated during his years as Head of Slytherin at Hogwarts. It consisted of the more high-profile students, the talented and the pure-blooded. Tom Riddle had been in it.

"Oh yes. You'll meet Professor Slughorn soon, Harry, if you're following Tom's timetable. I'm sure he'll absolutely adore you."

"Won't that be a joy," Harry said dryly, his eyes wandering to the head table. Only Dippet and Dumbledore sat there, along with a couple of professors he didn't recognize. No sign of Slughorn.

"And where have you spent the last couple of hours, Harry?" Tom asked as he applied food to his plate, ever graceful.

"In the library and on the grounds. I named my snake."

"He belongs to you now, does he?" Dorian asked. "I thought you just found him?"

"Yet he keeps following me, demanding mice and other things. So I suppose it's safe to assume he's mine."

"Is it a more than platonic relationship, then?"

Harry rolled his eyes, before pulling Anton gently out from beneath his robes.

"_Tell Tom your new name_," he hissed.

Anton raised his head and turned towards Tom, who appeared quietly amused.

"_I am Anton,_" he said with a touch of pride.

Tom looked pleased. "_A fitting name,"_ he informed the snake.

"Well, this is a simply fascinating conversation," said Dorian, watching the three of them converse with a bemused look.

Bulstrode, sitting next to him, snorted. "A half-blood shouldn't be able to speak Parseltongue. Not when those more worthy are here to claim it."

"Like yourself, I suppose?" Cedrella said with a snort of her own.

Bulstrode narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying, Black? Oh wait; you've been disowned, haven't you? What's your name now?"

"Not yet, Bulstrode," Cedrella replied mildly, and she deigned to ignore her for the rest of the meal.

Harry sighed. "Do bloodlines come into every conversation of every meal, then?"

Dorian made an aghast sound. "Of course not. At dinner, it's bloodlines. At lunch we contemplate worthiness, and at breakfast we have deep, meaningful, prejudiced debates."

Cedrella laughed. "And discussion in the common room is a mixture of the three."

As amusing as this was, Harry felt somewhat dismayed. "Clearly you delve to cover a wide range of interesting topics whenever possible."

"Exactly," Dorian declared.

Tom laughed softly. "It is not as bad as it sounds," he said, amused.

"Yes; only completely dull and time-consuming," Dorian muttered. "Thank Merlin it's the weekend tomorrow."

Bulstrode uttered some form of squeal. "I can't wait!"

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You're not still dating that fifth year cretin, are you? He has even l less of a brain than you do."

She scowled at him. "Shut up. At least I _have _a love-life, rather than consorting with every other object that moves, like yourself. And it's a Hogsmeade weekend!"

Dorian sighed. "You will never understand the concepts of mutual sex."

"Nor you the concepts of a relationship."

"You sound like an insipid Gryffindor."

"You sound like a complete and utter idiot."

"Now _that_ was uncalled for. I am truly hurt. You have dented the bottomless pit that is my soul. I am wounded beyond measure."

"Oh, do shut up," Cedrella piped in absently.

They were interrupted. "Potter."

Harry turned to find an astonishingly blond boy looking down at him with cold and assertive f features.

"Yes?"

"Professor Slughorn would like to see you in his office immediately." With that, he strode off.

Harry turned round to see the others watching the boy walk away. "Who is he?"

"That's Abraxas Malfoy. He isn't particularly jolly," Dorian informed him.

"You had better go, Harry. Professor Slughorn does not like to be kept waiting," Tom said. "Here, let me escort you."

"Don't trouble yourself," Harry said as he stood.

Tom raised a brow as he rose. "It is no trouble."

Harry shrugged and followed him to the doors.

"Enjoy yourselves," Dorian called from the table. "Don't talk to anyone unworthy."

Harry rolled his eyes at him as Tom led him towards the dungeons. Soon they were alone and it was quiet.

"You appear to be fitting in quite easily," Tom surmised. "And Dorian has taken an immediate li liking to you."

Harry snorted. "Fitting in? I've had to improvise and rummage around for excuses all afternoon."

Tom gave an elegant shrug. "Yet you have made quite a few friends."

"Perhaps Slytherins have different concepts of friendship than Gryffindors." Harry wondered where this conversation was going. They were soon deep in the dungeons.

"It would appear so. Do you know Slughorn?"

"Yes. Not very well, but yes. He seemed a little over-obsessed with you. I had to spend a lot of time getting infor-" Oh, crap, Harry thought as he stopped. He couldn't keep letting things slip like that. Had Tom even considered Horcruxes yet? "Never mind."

Tom came to a halt and turned to him. He seemed to like stopping in the middle of hallways, Harry noted. "Getting information about what?"

Harry frowned. "Nothing. Don't ask me about it."

Tom remained expressionless.

Harry sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "So far, you haven't completely lived up to the image Dumbledore creates of you in my time."

Tom looked surprised at that. "Go on," he urged.

"Well," Harry said, cocking his head to the side, "I haven't yet encountered the charming persona I'm told you use on everyone. All I get is a mask of indifference."

"I _am_ charming, Harry," Tom said, looking amused. "When I want to be."

"Right," Harry said disbelievingly, though a small smile tugged at his lips.

"I offered to escort you down here, didn't I? Is that not charming enough?"

Harry snorted. "You mean you left no room for argument and I had no choice but to follow you."

"Are you implying that I forced you to follow me?"

"No, just that your methods of escorting a person are less than charming."

Tom laughed softly and moved to stand directly in front of Harry.

"Would you like me to be more charming, Harry?"

Harry met the taller boy's gaze. "I'd like it if you would reveal a bit of emotion every now and then."

Tom's eyebrows drew together slightly, and Harry could see the calculating expression in his eyes.

"It is not appropriate for a Slytherin to reveal his emotions too openly."

"Well I'm the only other Slytherin here at the moment. I'm not going to run and tell the nearest person that you smiled."

As if contradicting him, Tom smiled. "There's nothing wrong with smiling."

"Smiling usually indicates that a person is amused or happy," Harry said laughingly.

Tom moved even closer then. Harry tensed slightly, wondering what the boy would do.

But all he did was ask, "Do you like it when I smile?"

Harry blinked. "I don't think I've seen enough of your smiles to come to a conclusion yet," he s said, realizing that he was on the verge of flirting with the murderer of his parents. For once, though, he dismissed it. He was having too much fun now to be serious.

Tom gave a very soft chuckle, his hand coming up to rest against Harry's cheek. "Well, I know for certain that you have a lovely smile, my dear Harry."

Harry could feel heat flush his cheeks, and silently made to move away. However, Tom was faster. One arm wrapped around Harry's waist and the other took a gentle but firm hold of his chin. And then Tom kissed him again.

This time, as Harry felt himself melting against the taller boy's body, he responded. The fact that he could hardly be called experienced was forgotten as he clung to the other Slytherin's robes.

It was Tom who pulled away slightly to stare into Harry's eyes. But he was too close for Harry to see his expression as anything more than a blur.

"Did you like that, Harry?" Tom murmured. "Do you like my kisses? You ran away from the last ones."

Harry felt speechless. He had no idea what to say to that. He wasn't meant to be kissing anyone here in the first place, let alone Tom Riddle.

"Ahem," a voice spoke up, and Harry turned to find the young equivalent of Slughorn watching them with a somewhat delighted expression on his face, though why, Harry had no idea. He could only imagine the picture they must make. He pulled away from Tom's embrace, and the boy's arms fell to his sides.

"Potter, is it?" the Professor said, getting straight to the point.

"Yes," Harry said hesitantly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Wonderful, wonderful, come with me. You come too, Tom." He turned round and began to march down the corridor, seeming to head for one of the doors at the end.

Harry followed, with Tom behind him. It was at the entrance to Professor Slughorn's office that he wondered, once again, just what it was that he was getting himself into.

-

**MissSiriusBlack-x:** Thanks! Yes, it most definately will be slash, although I can't guarantee much as to the detail.

**The Dark Cyan Star:** I'm glad you think it's a good change. I've had lots of comments in the past saying that they thought Harry revealed too much too soon, and I have to reluctantly agree but the story has progressed too far for me to want to change it!

**Warrior from beyond:** I hope my story succeeds in keeping you engaged.

**sukiyaki86:** I found myself frustrated for a while because of the demands for me to update and the guilt of my laziness, so I took my stories down. Drastic move, I suppose. But now I've had a burst of motivation so hopefully it'll all be fine.

**animegurl088:** I'm glad you think so :D


	3. Chapter 3

The entire office was a dark world of dim lamps, strewn scrolls, open books and broken quills. Slughorn sat among it all at his large mahogany desk, his dark gaze fixed on Harry, who shifted in his seat under its weight. Tom sat in the chair next to him, his cool eyes set on the professor.

"So," the professor said casually, finally drawing his gaze from Harry to rest on the piece of parchment on front of him. It had a distinguishable scrawl on it. "The headmaster thought it wise to inform me, as your potions professor and Head of House, of your situation. "I admit to being intrigued, especially since he did not find it necessary to fill in all the details."

Harry wondered for a moment whether he was meant to reply, but the professor continued.

"At first I assumed the Headmaster had fallen for a mere prank, but in seeing that you have gained the… friendship of my most prized student," he paused to send Tom a smile with practiced charm, "I must say that you have my utmost confidence."

A touch bemused, Harry answered, "That is very kind of you, sir."

"Yes, yes. It is. Now, what is your full name?"

_This_ Slughorn, Harry soon came to find, was impatient, quick-witted and had a clockwork mind that manipulated every situation. He could almost see the wheels turning in the man's head, although what was going on in there he had no idea. The man was quite different from the beaming, bumbling professor he had met in the future.

Harry answered the question and prepared himself for an onslaught of more. Every now and then he could feel Tom's eyes on him, although Harry kept his gaze on the chattering man in front of him.

"One thing the Headmaster _did_ tell me, and I was quite astonished, you must understand- was that you were formerly a _Gryffindor._" He could not quite catch the level of disgust that Snape would have conveyed at the name, but his tone wasn't far from it.

"That's right."

"May I ask how that is possible?"

Harry hesitated, before saying, "The first person I met on coming to Hogwarts for my first year was a Malfoy. From dislike of him, and seeing he had been placed in Slytherin, I asked the Hat not to put me in the same House. So I ended up in Gryffindor."

Slughorn's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "The Hat simply did as you asked?"

"It did."

"Well, it is an explanation, at least. Although I fail to see how a dislike for someone can lead to an entirely different change of House. Into which House did your parents hope you'd be Sorted?"

"They died before they had a chance to consider it, sir."

"Oh? How old were you then?"

"About a year and a half."

Slughorn only looked mildly surprised at this, as if many of his students were orphans. "Then who supervised your upbringing?"

"Dumbledore. He sent me to live with my Muggle relatives."

A scowl crawled upon Slughorn's face as he leaned back in his chair. "You had to live with _Muggles_?"

"Yes. My mother was Muggle-born. They were the only living family I had. I didn't have much choice in the matter."

"And how did these people treat you? Were they civilized?"

Harry frowned. "Not particularly," he said slowly, wondering why the man was asking.

"How so? Were you neglected? Abused?

Harry scowled then. "I hardly think that that is any concern of yours."

Slughorn leaned forward, interested. "Despite the rudeness, I'll take that as a yes. You are very much like Tom then, who won't explain his unpleasant past even to _me_."

"Some things are better left unknown," Harry said slowly.

"If I may, Professor, we have wandered off the subject," Tom put in with his own pleasant smile.

"Of course, of course," Slughorn sobered at once. "As our dear Headmaster asked, I have arranged for you both to visit Diagon Alley tomorrow morning, accompanied by Professor Priggs." His lip curled in distaste, before he continued, "Tom, I must ask that you do me a favour. I ordered some potion ingredients last month that are late in coming; I would be grateful if you could… pay the suppliers a visit." With this his eyes gleamed. Harry decided he didn't want to know what Tom would do on this errand.

"Of course, Professor," Tom answered smoothly with a slight bow of the head.

"Lovely. Now, Harry. I have for you here a copy of Tom's timetable. Learn it by heart." He handed it to Harry over the desk. "Don't look at it now; I'm sure Tom will go through it with you when he finds the time."

Harry nodded. There was a pause as Slughorn appeared to contemplate something. "Yes," the man said absently. "Yes, indeed. It seems you have caught my interest, Potter. Perhaps you would like to join a little club of mine?"

When Harry hesitated in answering, he said, "It will be an easy way for you to gain friends. Especially if you are in some form of relationship with our Tom here." The man almost beamed.

"I'm _not _in some form of relationship with Tom," Harry said irritably, sending the boy next to him a vaguely annoyed look. He received a Machiavellian smile in reply.

Slughorn looked a bit disappointed. "No?" he said, before sighing. "Well, see to it that you come along anyway. I am interested in how the others will react to you."

Biting back a comment, Harry gave him an affirmative.

"Lovely. Now, you will meet Priggs in the Entrance Hall at eight tomorrow. Don't give the man a reason to put you in detention by being late. Everything is taken care of; don't worry about the matter of money. You will be shopping for clothes, school robes, a trunk, perhaps a pet and… do you have a wand with you?"

"Yes," Harry said. It sat comfortably in his robe pocket. "And I already have a pet, sir."

"You do?"

"He appears to have befriended an adder, professor," Tom ventured.

"An…. adder?"

"Yes." Tom turned to Harry with an intent look. "Why not show him Anton?"

Harry sent him a questioning glance, but pulled out the snake from under his robes. Anton was annoyed. _"What are you doing? Put me back, stupid human, it's cold out here."_

Harry scowled at him. _"I just want you to meet someone who appreciates your kind, that's all. This is Professor Slughorn_." Anton's tongue flickered in recognition.

Slughorn clapped his hands in delight. Harry looked up. "A _Parselmouth_! Why didn't you say so, Tom? This is simply wonderful. Clearly you are a true Slytherin, Harry. Yes, I shall be very pleased to have you in the meeting."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said quietly, feeling and no doubt looking slightly perplexed.

By the time Slughorn finally dismissed them, Harry had a headache. When Tom asked him if he wanted to retire to the Slytherin common room, Harry politely declined, imagining the noise.

"Then walk with me on the grounds. You clearly aren't feeling well."

Without waiting for an answer, Tom took Harry's hand and led him towards the Entrance Hall.

"Tom," Harry said suddenly, preparing to ask the thing that had been irritating him for a while now.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why… why do you keep kissing me?"

Tom stopped walking and turned, an amused expression adorning his face. "I don't know, Harry. Perhaps you could tell me?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Is it a problem, Harry? Do you want me to stop giving you my kisses? I can offer them to someone else, if you wish."

Harry had been completely unprepared for the question and stood there, opened his mouth and closed it, before scowling when Tom laughed softly at him.

"Don't worry. I know you crave for them."

"I do not," Harry said, affronted.

"Yes, you do." Tom's expression turned serious. "I know what you want, Harry. Though perhaps you haven't even figured it out yet yourself."

Harry moved slightly away from the other boy, feeling intimidated. What was he on about? "I think you're confused," he muttered. "I've only been here a couple of days."

"Really?" Tom moved in, taking a hold of Harry's shoulder and holding him firmly against the wall. His other hand settled in Harry's hair, much to the boy's distress.

"Tell me to go away, then," Tom said, planting a light kiss on Harry's lips. Harry simply glared at him, caught between wanting Tom to kiss him more, and wanting to push the boy away.

"Well?" He placed more fluttery kisses along Harry's jaw, using the hand in his hair to gently tilt the other boy's head to the side, giving him access to his neck.

"Stop that," Harry uttered, placing his hands on Tom's chest in a weak attempt to put a barrier between himself and the other boy."

"No, not when I know you are enjoying this as much as I am."

Harry was too slow to respond and soon Tom's arms settled around his waist, holding Harry securely against him.

Seconds later found Harry's own arms sliding around Tom's neck, pulling him more deeply into the kiss that Tom had initiated.

He could feel Tom emit a satisfied sigh. Harry felt at ease. He wondered why he had been afraid of this. No, he knew _why_ he was afraid of it. Of Tom. But right now, he didn't care. One hand grasping Tom's tie and the other his shoulder, Harry attempted to pull the boy even closer. He was slightly confused when he heard a loud shriek from a few meters away.

They both broke the kiss to found Marie Bulstrode staring at them. Eyes wide, a hand over her mouth, she began to sputter some nonsense about being betrayed.

However, Tom didn't release Harry. Instead, he emitted an irritated sigh and said, "Is there a problem?"

Bulstrode stared at him in shock for a moment. "Yes, there is a problem!" she exclaimed finally. "He's a _half_-blood! What are you doing with him?!"

Tom turned his gaze to Harry's, who was staring at him curiously rather than trying to push him away.

Yes, Harry thought - why exactly was the popular Tom Riddle openly kissing a _half-breed_ in a usually busy corridor? What was he aiming to gain from this? Harry knew that Tom's own heritage was a secret and that he hated Muggle-borns. What did he think he was doing, spoiling his reputation by welcoming in the new dirty-blooded transfer student?

Tom returned his gaze to Bulstrode, having read Harry's thoughts from his expression. "I make my own choices, as you ought to make yours. Now go and spread your rumours before my wand finds you."

Clearly Bulstrode's confidence only went so far, for she turned and left immediately, a shocked expression plastered upon her pretty face.

"What-" Harry begun, but he quieted at the annoyed expression that flickered over Tom's features. He covered his disappointment when the taller boy released him.

"Let's go for that walk, shall we?" Tom said, and he took Harry's hand again as if nothing had happened.

-

The sun was sinking in the sky. The fluffy clouds were no longer strong enough to hold it up, and its crimson light fell scattered upon the lake, casting shadows. Harry sat by Tom, who was staring into the distance. They were sitting in the same spot he had visited the day before; next to a small clump of bare trees and rocks, facing the lake.

Harry shivered. Tom was being oddly quiet. It hadn't taken Harry long to realize that the other boy occasionally had the odd sudden mood swing. However, Tom rarely revealed his anger and usually used his charm to mask his annoyance.

Harry was caught by surprise when the boy turned and stared at him with a vibrant gaze. "You're cold," Tom said softly, almost as if he cared, and pulled Harry close to him. It took a while for Harry to relax with his head on Tom's shoulder, but he did, and soon felt himself on the verges of dozing off.

"What did your Muggle relatives do to you?" Tom asked suddenly, without moving.

Harry stiffened and sat up. "Why?"

Tom looked at him. "I'm curious. You know many of my secrets, after all. I know next to nothing about you. Won't you share a few things with me?"

Harry hesitated. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but… he took his wand from his pocket and pointed it at his forehead. He hadn't used this spell in quite a while, and he hoped it would work. He ignored Tom's frown and closed his eyes, concentrating on a memory. He chose the time when Uncle Vernon had shoved him in the cupboard that was his bedroom for ruining the breakfast. He could remember the blisters on his hands and the terror he felt as Uncle Vernon as stormed up to him and grabbed his arm hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Dudley had stood in the corner watching with glee and Aunt Petunia had just looked on with pursed lips.

A second later, Harry drew the memory from his mind, as one would with a Pensieve, and held it shimmering at the end of his wand. This spell needed no words. Tom looked vaguely impressed; Harry supposed the spell hadn't been invented yet.

"Here," he said, feeling slightly sick. He handed his wand to Tom, the memory still a shimmering ball of silver at the tip. "It's a memory. Emotions and all. Take it."

Tom didn't say anything, but carefully took the wand. He looked at Harry questioningly.

"Just point it at your forehead," Harry explained. He watched as Tom absorbed the memory, trails of silver disappearing into his mind. The memory was only about twenty seconds long. Harry scooted up to lean against the nearest tree and watched the emotions flicker across Tom's face with fascination.

He saw a variety of surprise, fear, pain… and something that looked like recognition. Tom understood. He knew the feeling of being shunned, hurt, ignored.

Harry took his wand back when it was finished. The other boy still said nothing. Then, taking his own wand, Tom pointed it to his forehead and closed his eyes.

Harry was surprised. He hadn't expected to receive a memory in return. Interested, he sat up and waited as a dark look enclosed Tom's features.

"Here," Tom said expressionlessly when he was done, handing his wand to Harry.

The first thing Harry saw when he looked through the eyes of a young Tom Riddle was a dark room. He could hear muffled voices coming from the room next door. If he concentrated hard enough, he could hear…

"I just don't know what to do with him! Today he locked young Joseph in that old shed – you know the one I'm talking about, the one behind that dump, the caretaker's house – he was in there for hours, until our little Sarah heard the yells-"

A second voice interrupted. "Yes I know what you mean. Last week Toby mysteriously fell down the stairs and broke his ankle. No one saw it, but… the only other one up there was _that boy_."

"I just don't know what to do! And you know they say strange things happen around him…"

"Yes, I did hear… all the animals gone, including Richard's lovely old dog, you know the one, Jess I think her name was-"

"And the odd pieces of furniture turning up everywhere? Of course that could have nothing to do with the boy, but still…"

"Yes, I know what you mean. Nothing odd like this ever happened before _he _turned up-"

"We'll never be rid of him, will we? His poor mother died and no one is going to want to take him in. Not with the way he is…"

"That boy is weird. You'll have to keep a close eye on him-"

"We're trying, we really are. But he just keeps... well, suddenly going _missing _and turning up in the oddest places-"

The voices suddenly stopped as Harry heard a door open and a muffled voice speak. He couldn't make out the words, but the chattering women left with it.

Harry glanced around, his eyes growing accustomed to the darkness. He was sitting on a small cot in a cramped room. A large cupboard sat opposite him and the door was on the wall to the right of him. A few smashed toys were scattered on the floor. Other than that, the room was empty. And damp. An onslaught of emotions hit him – mostly fear and hate. But gnawing at the back of his mind, he felt a horrible want. Something he wanted more than anything, something that would give him a great amount of satisfaction. Revenge.

The door suddenly opened and a light flicked on- but with that, the memory ended.

-

The next morning found Harry waiting in the Entrance Hall, Anton resting on his shoulder and Tom standing patiently beside him. Professor Priggs, whom Harry had had still yet to meet, would arrive any minute now.

As he lingered, Harry's thoughts drifted over to his knew timetable. Luckily, Tom had selected subjects that Harry was familiar with; Advanced Potions, Transfiguration, Defence against the Dark Arts (although, the reason why Tom Riddle took this class was beyond Harry). However, he would have to try and catch up in lessons such as Charms, which he had dropped. A quick glance at the list of books he needed to purchase revealed that he would have to familiarize himself with all the texts, since they were far out of date in his own time.

His thoughts were interrupted when finally the Professor strode briskly through the doors to stand before them. He was a tall, simple looking man with brown hair and a tired expression. Apparently, he had been a Hufflepuff.

"Good morning," the Professor said, his eyes resting on Harry. "As you probably know, I am Professor Priggs. I am to take you both to Diagon Alley via portkey. When we arrive you will receive the money you need, but I will be following you. Try not to get out of sight. I trust you will use the money sensibly." At this he drew an old hat from his pocket.

He held it out. "Are you ready?"

Harry glanced at Tom, who gave a slight nod.

"On the count of three then. One, two, three-"

Harry grasped the hat and experienced a few moments of huge discomfort before landing messily in what looked like the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Right," Professor Priggs said, adjusting his robe, as Anton hissed irritably in Harry's ear.

_"Stop complaining," _Harry said to him absently as he steadied himself and ignored his protesting stomach. He noticed with envy that Tom appeared completely fine, standing casually with hands in pockets and a bored expression adorning his features.

"Right," the Professor repeated, this time averting his eyes, clearly in dislike of Parseltongue. From the same pocket he drew out a small bag and handed it to Harry. "You'll find all the money you need is in there." he said. "Let's be going, shall we?"

As they meandered through the bustle of Diagon Alley, Harry noticed that as a whole the alley did not look very dissimilar to its existence in his own time. Puzzled, he mentioned this to Tom.

The taller boy glanced sideways at him. "I expect change moves very slowly in the Wizarding world," he mused. "It's a very close-kept community."

"Do you know where you are going first?" Professor Priggs asked, catching them up.

Harry glanced down at the list. "Where can I buy casual clothes?" he asked, having no idea himself. Usually he would be subjected to wearing borrowed clothes or Dudley's huge hand-me-downs.

Tom took his arm and led him to a cluster of small out-of-the-way shops. Harry soon found himself standing in the midst of a rather expensive clothes pile that the shop assistant had jumped to accumulate for him. Tom leant against the doorway, arms crossed and eyes darkly amused, while the Professor sat some way away by the shop window.

"Right, right," the shop assistant was muttering, his wand sending tape measures flying about and clothes folding and unfolding. "What colours do you prefer?" he asked suddenly.

"Um, black, I guess," Harry said, unsure of whether he should trust the man not to pick out vividly bright coloured items.

"Dark colours, then. Dark blues and greens for you, I think."

In the end he ushered Harry into the changing rooms with a bundle of selected clothes and a nudge, almost ordering him to try them on.

With a sigh, Harry dumped the pile on a bench and stared at it in protest. A dark chuckle signalled Tom's presence.

"What are you doing in here?" Harry asked, confused.

Tom leant against the opposite wall, hands in pockets. "He sent me to help you try them on."

Harry scowled. "I'm not_ that_ incapable."

"No? then get on with it."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "And you're just going to stand there?"

"Of course. What happens if you suddenly slip and need my assistance?"

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the shirts. "Then I'll call for help?"

"And disturb the other customers? I hardly think so."

Harry shook his head. "That's ridiculous." Honestly, he wasn't too bothered about Tom watching him undress, as long as he kept his distance. Quickly he tugged his shirt off and pulled the other on.

"There, done," he announced, hands on hips.

Tom gave him a lazy smirk. "You still need to try the rest on."

"I could just lie," Harry argued, looking in dismay at the large pile.

Tom simply raised an eyebrow at him, so he scowled and sat by the pile, grabbing a pair of dark jeans.

"Dark blues and greens, huh," he murmured, when Tom suddenly came to crouch down next to him. He ignored Harry's confused look, and instead took a gentle but firm hold of his chin and kissed him.

Not even bothering to resist anymore, Harry returned the kiss, one hand landing on Tom's shoulder, the other leaning on the floor.

He heard a gasp and a swish of robes before he pulled back and looked at Tom questioningly. "Were you trying to scar him for life?" he muttered, referring to the assistant who had just run off.

Tom smiled at him and stood. "Of course not, Harry. He would have made a fuss, is all."

Harry sighed and finally began to tug his trousers off to pull on one of the many pairs as Tom returned to his spot by the wall. Thirty minutes later, he paid and they left the shop to a nervous, stuttering assistant. By now Harry's pockets were loaded with shrunken brown packages.

The next stop would be for school robes. He imagined Ron's expression if he saw Harry in Slytherin robes and had to conceal a laugh.

A while later, as they made their way to Flourish and Blotts, Tom reminded Harry that he needed to visit Knockturn Alley for Professor Slughorn.

Warily, Harry agreed that they would stop there next after he bought his books. By the time they reached the small Potions shop it was around lunchtime. "Wait here," Tom said expressionlessly, leaving an anxious Harry and a curious Professor Priggs on the doorstep. Next to the door sat a dirty sign that read: 'Maurice Magle: Supplier of Potions and Ingredients.'

As they waited, Harry wandered slowly along the dirty cobblestone path, ignoring the lurking strangers and looking with interest at the dark shops. In curious dismay he noticed an extremely out-of-date broom through one of the dusty windows. Meanwhile, Anton's head slid up from the neck of his robe. _"I'm hungry."_

_"Again? What happened to that poor mouse I gave you this morning?"_

_"I am bored of mice. I want to try a mole."_

_"Why a mole?" _Harry asked, perplexed.

_"The others say that moles are especially tasty." _

_"And where am I going to find a mole?"_

_"Use your magic."_

Harry was startled when he suddenly felt a hand grab his elbow. He had been too busy conversing with Anton to notice the small elderly man watching him with an excited expression in his beady eyes.

"Young master!" the man said, delightedly, hands rubbing together in glee. "Indeed, am I pleased to meet you!"

Harry frowned and moved away slightly. A glance around told him that Professor Priggs had wandered off to talk to some woman.

"Excuse me?" he asked, hoping Tom would hurry up and save him.

The man invaded Harry's personal space once again and lowered his croaky voice to a hushed whisper. "Long has it been since I have heard the language of the Great one!"

"What do you mean?"

"Salazar, young master! You speak his tongue. Why, if ever I can do anything for you, my shop is just over there." He pointed to a small rundown shack in a nearby corner. He gave a horrible toothy grin and quickly scurried off before Harry could tell him to get lost.

"_What a vile human,'_ Anton remarked. He appeared to have watched the whole encounter on Harry's shoulder with some form of curious disgust.

"_That was your fault," _Harry replied mildly, noticing that Professor Priggs had finished his conversation with the woman only to turn and talk to the person behind him.

"_Do not be absurd," _Anton hissed, tickling Harry's ear. _"Where is your human?"_

"_My human?"_

"_The one who speaks."_

"_Oh, you mean Tom? We're waiting for him."_

"_Is he your mating partner?"_

"_Er," _Harry said with a mixture of dismay and amusement. It was at that moment that Tom exited the shop to stand beside him.

"_Well?" _Anton pressed, rising and swaying a little.

"_No," _Harry glanced at Tom, absorbing his questioning look. "_He's not my mating partner."_

Tom's lips quirked upwards and Harry rolled his eyes amusedly.

"_What is he for, then_?" Anton hissed impatiently.

"_Um," _Harry managed. Luckily he was saved as Professor Priggs finally gestured for them to leave the Alley.

"Do you need anything else?" Tom asked, appearing to dismiss the conversation.

"I don't think so," Harry murmured, checking the list. "No… I'm done. You?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you done?" the Professor asked impatiently as they approached him.

"_Are we leaving now?" _Anton demanded with a similar tone.

"Yes," Harry answered. "_Yes, we can go and hunt some mole."_

Anton gave a delighted hiss and slithered back down Harry's shirt.

"Good, let's be going then."

-

That evening, Harry wandered lightly through Hogwarts' brightly corridors, dismissing sombre thoughts of Ron and Hermione and silently rejoicing in his abrupt un-famous existence. Tom was off at a prefect meeting of some sort, and almost everyone else was scattered on the grounds or studying vigorously in their common rooms.

The corridors were empty, and by the time Harry abandoned his daydreams he had reached the Entrance Hall. He roamed outside to sit on the large stone steps by a blond figure in the weak autumn sun. The person turned out to be a seventh year Slytherin who dubbed himself Chris.

"You're the new student?" Chris asked, moving up a step to sit by Harry, who introduced himself.

Chris said, "I've seen you in the Slytherin common room with Rosier."

"Yes, he's a friend, I suppose." Harry answered, unsure of what the boy was implying.

"Are you…. In a relationship with him?"

"Er, no, not at all."

"What about Riddle?"

"He's… also just a friend."

Chris gave a soft laugh. "Alright. So what do you think of the school?"

Harry sighed and looked off at the grounds, elbows leaning on his knees. "It will do."

Chris smiled in amusement and rested his chin on his hand, staring at Harry.

"You're quite pretty, you know," he murmured.

Harry turned to stare at him in surprise. He then laughed. "_Pretty_?"

"Would you prefer something else? Dazzling, perhaps?"

Harry, embarrassed, felt his cheeks grow warm. "Um. 'Pretty' will do."

Chris laughed quietly at him and inched closer so that their thighs touched. "So if you're not with Riddle and you're not with Rosier, who are you with?"

"Am I allowed to be with no one?" Harry asked.

"Well, no, not really. Everyone is with someone."

"Oh? Who are _you _with, then?"

Chris smiled. "Why do you ask?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I'm… temporarily unengaged."

Harry smirked at him. "So you're not with anyone either. Pathetic."

Chris gave him a mock insulted look. "I'll find someone soon enough."

"Hmm, keep telling yourself that," Harry said absently as he went back to gazing at the lake. He felt nice; happy, like he wanted to float.

"You're not very nice, you know," Chris stated. "I decide to befriend the new boy and all he does is imply rude things."

Harry laughed. "I'm so sorry. If I knew I was causing so much pain, I wouldn't have said a word."

Chris smirked at him, but changed the subject, "I hear you're in the club."

Harry made an agreeable sound.

"What do you think of Slughorn?"

"He's strange," Harry murmured.

"He favours Riddle, you know."

Harry turned to face him. "Are you jealous?" he said straightforwardly.

Chris appeared slightly taken aback. A thoughtful look then crossed his handsome features. "No," he said slowly. "I'm not jealous. Although, It _is_ rather unfair that he manages to capture all the pretty ones." He looked at Harry pointedly.

"_Capture_?" Harry asked incredulously, amused.

"Of course. By the end of the week, I'm sure you'll be smitten with him and his charm in one way or another. Just like the rest of them."

Harry frowned and leant his head on his hands, elbows on knees. "No, I don't think so," he said finally. "I don't want to be just another one of his…."

"Just another one of the many people he uses?"

"I guess. I'm pretty sure I won't end up _smitten_ with him, at least."

Chris raised a brow at him. "We'll see," he said, eyes flickering with some form of emotion.

Harry suddenly felt a jolt of pity for the other boy. It could not be nice to live in Tom's shadow all the time.

Chris stood up and Harry followed suit. "We'll talk again some time?" Chris enquired, staring intensely at Harry.

"Of course. Do you… want to meet up at some point?"

Chris smiled. "Sure. Why don't we meet here again tomorrow evening?"

"How about at eight?"

"Eight it is."

-

The common room was full and warm, its contents separated into hushed groups. Harry slumped in one of the chairs in a dark corner and attempted to ignore the giggling and pointing. It was dark and comfortable, and soon he drifted off into his own lazy world. A moment later Dorian came to sit by him.

"Nice day out with Tom?" he asked casually, inspecting his fingernails.

"I guess," Harry said absentmindedly, watching Anton lazily coil up on his lap.

"_I like this one," _the snake hissed sleepily, head resting on his coils.

"_I think he likes Tom," _Harry answered. Dorian watched them with mild interest.

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean I think he wants Tom to be his mating partner. Or they are already mating partners."_

Anton, suddenly more awake, raised his upper body to stare at Dorian. _"But this one wants you."_

Harry frowned. _"I doubt that. I've only been here a few days." _He looked directly at the curious boy who raised an eyebrow at him.

"Gossiping about me?" Dorian asked.

"_Foolish human. He wants you. And so does your Tom. Do humans have multiple mating partners?"_

"_Um, sometimes," _Harry answered. "We're just, er… discussing mating partners," he explained.

The other boy offered him an amused smirk. "Is that what you snakes call it?" he said.

"_What's he saying?" _Anton demanded.

"_He thinks it's funny that we are talking about potential mating partners."_

"_Ask him if he wants you," _the snake suggested sibilantly.

Harry gave him an incredulous look. _"No!"_

"_Why not? You have Tom. Why not have this one as well? He smells delicious."_

"_You like him because of the way he smells? Oh, never mind."_ Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Remind me never to get dating advice from a snake," he muttered absently.

Dorian decided to snicker at him. "Your sense of 'mating partners' is really that bad?"

Harry scowled. "_No. _He just seems to think that I can pick and choose anyone and everyone I like."

"_What are you saying?" _Anton interrupted impatiently. Harry ignored him.

"Perhaps you should simply decide who you want, then," Dorian replied, back to inspecting his fingernails.

"What if I don't want anyone?"

"Oh, come now. Everyone wants someone in some form or other. Take Tom, for example. He's permanently horny and tends to fuck anyone he likes."

"Dorian!" Harry exclaimed, shocked. But that comment prickled at the back of Harry's mind. Is that what Tom was doing with him? Was Harry just the latest person for him to use?

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow at him. "Why so surprised? You didn't think he was all romance and sunshine, did you?"

Harry snorted. "Well, no."

"Well then. Anyway, my point is, you must want someone."

"What's it to you?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Me? I'm just interested in the latest gossip, is all. By the way, the entire school believes that you and Tom are officially together."

"What!" Harry exclaimed, and a little too loudly, for heads began to turn.

Dorian smirked at him. "So, it isn't true. I just wanted to check."

Harry scowled. "I bet it was Bulstrode," he muttered.

"Because she walked in on us…" Harry murmured absently, staring at the floor and wondering what advantage the girl had by doing this.

"Oh? So you're fucking, but not together?" Dorian said amusedly.

"Huh?" Harry said, frowning. "What, no! We're not fucking. We're not anything."

Dorian sighed patiently. "Then…"

"He keeps kissing me, that's all."

"He keeps kissing you," came the dry reply. "Have you ever considered why?"

Harry scowled. "He won't tell me."

Dorian began to laugh softly at him. "You are lovely but pathetic, Harry."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." The boy returned his eyes to his fingernails as they fell into a comfortable silence.

"_Well?" _Anton voiced.

"_Well what?"_

"_Are you going to mate with him?"_

Harry sighed. _"No, I am not going to mate with him."_ Then he added, to keep the snake quiet, _"Not right now, anyway."_

Anton gave a satisfied hiss and returned his head to his coils.

"Come to a conclusion?" Dorian asked.

"No, I think I wore him out."

"Well you are rather wearisome."

"Thanks. I only just realized what a great friend you are."

Dorian smirked at him. "Maybe that's because I'm your only friend."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Tom's my friend," he argued weakly, knowing full well that he was nothing more to Tom than a new toy. And strangely, the thought was somewhat painful.

"Of course. And you understand him about as well as Bulstrode understands mutual sex."

Harry smiled. "What's wrong with wanting to have a relationship? Even if the other person is an idiot…"

"Oh, nothing is wrong with a relationship. Nothing at all. But why tie yourself to one person when you can have a bit of everyone?"

"_Everyone?"_ Harry said, visibly edging his chair away.

Dorian smirked at him. "Well, maybe not Bulstrode. Or her idiot boyfriend, for that matter. Or Slughorn."

Harry answered with something along the lines of, 'Ugh,' and shuddered.

Dorian just continued to smirk.

"_Your human is coming," _Anton said sleepily, and Harry glanced up to see Tom entering the common room.

"There's a party coming up, you know," Dorian said casually as Tom's eyes landed on them.

Harry dragged his eyes away from the approaching figure and fixed them on Dorian.

"Oh?" he said.

"Yes. Tom tells me you have been invited into the club. I'm sure you'll be allowed to attend the party."

"What's it for?" Harry said as Tom reached them.

"I don't rightly know, but there is a meeting tomorrow."

"There is no particular reason, as far as I can tell," Tom informed them, as his eyes met Harry's. "And Professor Dumbledore would like to see you when you are available."

"Alright," Harry said warily. Had they already figured out how to send him back?

"Well, I'm off," Dorian said with a smirk. "I'll see you two lovelys in the morning." Harry watched as the boy wandered in the direction of the dormitory.

"_I want to go to bed," _Anton murmured when Harry picked him up and stood.

"_Snakes don't sleep in beds," _he answered absently.

Tom gave him an amused smile. "I think you'll find that they do. Goodnight, Harry." This time he leaned forward and gave Harry a gentle kiss before turning and following Dorian's steps.

-

Later on in the night, Harry woke and sat with a heated gasp. He was sweating, shaking, and as leaned forward, found the damp remnants of pleasure smeared across his stomach.

Blearily, he grabbed his wand from under his pillow as flickers of teasing hands and dark hair flitted across his foggy mind.

Confused, Harry cleared the mess with a flick of his wand and eventually fell back into slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry opened his eyes to find Dorian watching him with a thoughtful expression.

Blearily he pushed himself up into a sitting position, elbows leaning on bent knees. "What time is it?" he asked, voice roughened by sleep.

Dorian was sitting casually on the end of the bed, the curtains half drawn to allow him access. "It is approximately seven o' clock on a Sunday," he answered with a bored expression, habitually twirling his wand in one hand while the other leant against the bed.

Harry said nothing as he attempted to process the thought of waking at such an early hour on a Sunday. In slight embarrassment he noticed Dorian's eyes trailing unashamedly down his bare chest. In the end, he cleared his throat and managed, "do you always get up so early?"

Dorian raised a brow. "We are the last ones in here, actually. I have orders to wake you up."

Confused, Harry rubbed his eyes. "Orders…? Oh." Tom. "Maybe later," he said, and lay back down with a yawn.

Dorian gave a soft snort. "Well, I refuse to leave without you. I rather value my private parts."

Harry snickered and threw an arm over his eyes. When he opened them again a moment later, the other boy was still watching him expressionlessly.

"Do you plan on sitting there all day?" he asked curiously.

"My intention was to wait until you bother to get up. However I could result to physically forcing you, if you would prefer."

Harry gave him a sleepy grin. "Just say you couldn't wake me up."

"You expect our dear Tom to believe that?"

"Well, no, but it would give me a few more minutes sleep."

"Very well, physical force it is."

Harry pushed himself up again. "Fine, fine," he said, and slumped tiredly against the wall, watching Dorian from through lidded eyes.

"This morning, please," Dorian said with amusement.

"But 'm tired," Harry complained, eyes falling shut again.

"And I'm sure you can have plenty of sleep later."

"But…"

"You're worse than I am. What must I do to make you get up?"

Harry smiled but said nothing. When he began to doze off again he was surprised to suddenly find himself forcefully pushed onto his back.

"Wha.." he managed before he found a mouth over his own. It was with a sleep-ridden mind and muddled thoughts that Harry did not realize what was happening as he moaned softly and pulled the boy completely on top of him.

A second later the blanket was tugged aside and Harry experienced the newfound pleasure of sliding his boxer-clad hardness against Dorian's thigh. They broke the kiss gasping and set a rhythm once Harry discovered the other boy's erection pressing into his side.

A few intense moments of moaning, thrusting and kissing followed and left them both lying on the bed panting.

"Well," Dorian murmured as he pushed himself off Harry. "That was one way to _get you up_."

After a pause, Harry laughed at the innuendo and pushed himself up. "You could have just spelled water over my head or something. I can't believe we did that."

He looked down at Dorian who was reclining against the pillows. He received a lazy smirk. "Now where's the fun in that?"

Harry rolled his eyes, cleaned away the mess with a flick of his wand, and finally staggered out of bed.

-

When discovering the common room to be empty, Harry and Dorian came to the conclusion that Tom had become bored with waiting and had already left for breakfast.

It was on their way up from the dungeons to the Great Hall that they came to a halt upon what looked like a gang of giggling Slytherin girls cornering a second or third-year Ravenclaw student.

"What's going on here?" Dorian asked vacantly, and immediately had the attention of the six Slytherin students.

"Nothing," the tallest of them answered sweetly, eyes narrowing. Her light hair and grey eyes immediately screamed Malfoy, Harry realized. This would be Claudia Malfoy.

He frowned once he saw who the victim was. Messy dark hair and hazel eyes; it had to be Henry Potter, Charlus' nephew.

Harry took a step towards him and immediately wands were pointing at him.

"Harry, let's be on our way," Dorian said indifferently, clearly not bothered about the Ravenclaw student.

"No," Harry said. "You go; I'll be there in a minute."

Dorian looked at him uncertainly, while Claudia gave a slight giggle. "Go on, Rosier. I should like to talk to the new boy."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, and, with an elegant shrug, Dorian strolled away without a backward glance.

He turned to the group. The other girls were silent, staring at him through narrowed eyes. Henry Potter was staring defiantly at the floor, clutching his school bag and saying nothing.

"I suggest you stop whatever it is you're doing," Harry said quietly, fixing his eyes on Claudia. His wand was still in his pocket, but he was hardly bothered by that.

The girl flashed her eyelashes at him, a smirk forming on her face. "And why would we listen to you, a half-blood?"

"Perhaps because you don't yet know what you're up against."

She snorted. "There is nothing you can do. You may be a sixth year but you are outnumbered. Will you run to the nearest professor?"

Harry was annoyed now. Calmly he took out his wand and pointed it directly towards Claudia.

Absently he blocked a hex that flew at him from one of the other girls.

"Take yourself elsewhere," Claudia said, clearly irritated but wary. "This is none of your business."

"Maybe the fact that he is my cousin makes it my business. Put away your wands and leave him alone."

The girls began to giggle spitefully at him.

"How sweet," Claudia said, before snapping a curse at him. Harry countered it and quickly formed a strong shielding charm around Henry.

Instantly hexes were being hurled at him.

Quickly racking his brains for a plan, Harry decided to settle on defense, for now. He could block their petty spells easily but had no idea as to when they would grow tired of their current entertainment.

A minute of firing and dodging spells followed, and finally Harry decided that he had had enough. _"Expelliarmus_," he murmured, followed by a "_Silencio._"

All six wands flew into his hand.

The girls glared at him viciously, both wandless and speechless.

"I think it's about time you gave up," Harry said irritably. "Approach him again and next time you won't be the only ones throwing curses. Now get lost."

With silent glee he turned their wands into candy sticks as he returned them. The spell had been an invention of Fred and George's.

Claudia gave him a furious expression and stomped away followed by her little gang.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked the Ravenclaw boy. Henry simply nodded his head, still clutching his bag to his chest, refusing to look up at Harry.

Harry was at a loss for words. The boy was so quiet. "Do you… need to visit the Hospital Wing?"

Again, the boy shook his head.

Harry sighed and took a firm hold of Henry's chin, forcing him to look up. He was surprised to find fear in the younger boy's eyes.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, just in case.

"Henry," the boy said, so quietly that Harry had to strain his ears to hear. "Henry Potter."

Harry smiled at him and released his chin. "I'm Harry. Why don't we walk to breakfast together?"

Henry nodded, his eyes returned to the ground, and moved to walk beside Harry along the corridor.

"You're very quiet," Harry commented. When he received no answer he asked, "Are you afraid?"

Henry shook his head, no, and they continued walking.

Harry sighed as they approached the Great Hall. "Let me know if they do it again," he said when the boy finally looked up at him. "Or, better yet, tell Charlus."

That comment made Henry look away. Harry frowned. There had to be something going on, here.

"I'll talk to you again sometime," he said, and when he received a nod, headed for the Slytherin table.

-

"Good morning, Potter," Cedrella said as Harry claimed the space beside her.

"I see nothing good about it," he said absentmindedly, piling food onto his plate.

"You certainly took your time in coming down," Bulstrode remarked across from him.

Harry scowled. "If I realized it was custom to get up so early on a Sunday morning, I would have refused to come to Hogwarts at all."

The witch snorted. "Why waste the day away sleeping when there are so many-"

"Did you sort out your little ordeal, Harry?" Dorian interrupted uncaringly. He was sitting on the other side of Cedrella, next to Tom.

Harry didn't reply. Instead he began to tap his fork insistently against the table, feeling restless all of a sudden.

"Are you ill?" Cedrella remarked, eyes glued to the book in her lap.

Harry sighed. "I'm not hungry," he decided suddenly, and stood.

As he wondered what to do, Anton decided to slide up and curl round his neck.

"_Hello," _the snake said cheerily.

"_Why are you so happy all of a sudden?"_

"_I enjoyed that little incident this morning," _Anton replied, tongue flicking in Harry's ear. Harry shifted uncomfortably, hoping that Anton was not referring to the little… episode with Dorian that had occurred earlier.

"Potter, sit down," Cedrella said mildly, and Harry sat.

"_Incident?_"

"What incident, Harry?" Tom spoke up, eyes dark and expressionless.

Harry felt extremely uncomfortable as questioning eyes fixed on him. He looked at Dorian who was staring with a mixture of amusement and disgust at something by the Gryffindor table.

"_Can we hunt now?" _Anton said suddenly, breaking the awkwardness.

"_Sure,_" Harry said and rose once again.

"Wait, Harry, I'd like to speak to you," Tom said, rising.

Harry frowned but nodded, and together they left the Hall.

"Are you attempting to hide something from me?" Tom questioned eventually.

"Like what?" Harry said, and turned so that they were heading towards the Entrance Hall. If Tom had any idea of what happened…well, it didn't matter. Harry had nothing to be ashamed of. There was nothing between him and Tom, just as there was nothing going on between Tom and the number of people he had used. Harry assured himself that he had no reason to be guilty whatsoever.

"I don't know exactly, but from what I can tell, something happened between you and my lovely Dorian. Something that you don't wish to share."

Harry sat on the steps outside, as he had done the day before with Chris. Tom followed suit.

"Why would I share it?" he said defensively, staring unseeingly at the lake. He owed Tom nothing. The couple of kisses they had shared were nothing. So why did he feel as though there was something eating at him?

"Why not? I am curious, and I see no harm in you telling me."

Harry frowned. Why was Tom pushing? It was none of his business. Had Dorian told him? "It's so trivial and insignificant that it hardly matters. What time is that meeting?"

"It is at six in a hidden room in the dungeons. I'm to tell you the password when we get there."

Harry nodded.

"Harry," Tom said quietly. Harry could feel those dark eyes staring at him. As though by force he turned to meet their intense gaze, and met the lips that kissed him.

"Did you enjoy Dorian's kisses as much as you enjoy mine?" Tom murmured, moving so that they were sitting right beside each other, thighs touching.

Harry didn't answer, not knowing what to say. His momentary restlessness had vanished; now he was simply tired.

"What does it matter," he murmured, fixing his eyes upon a couple of birds fluttering by a clump of leafless trees near the unmoving lake.

It was not cold, he noticed. The weak sun shone through gaps in the puffy clouds and made the droplets of leftover rain on plants glitter.

"Are you… were you in a relationship in the future?" Tom asked, following Harry's gaze.

"No. Well…" Harry decided not to think of Ginny, who had become more and more annoyingly tearful and desperate. It hadn't helped that Ron and Hermione had spent half their time trying to convince Harry to date her again and adamantly refused to understand that he didn't want to; that he wasn't interested in her and never really had been. "No. What about you?"

Tom raised an eyebrow at him. "What about me?"

"Don't you do relationships?"

"I am… not usually acquainted with anyone who I would consider having a relationship with."

There was a pause. "Dorian says that you're permanently horny and tend to fuck anyone you like," Harry blurted out, then mentally cursed himself.

To his surprise, Tom laughed softly.

"That's not quite true," he mused, staring off at the lake. "Well, perhaps it is. You'll find that most Slytherins view relationships as complications. Instead we take joy in… paying each other favors, so to speak."

"I guess that excludes Bulstrode, then," Harry said, watching Tom's moving expressions with fascination. Most of the time the boy's expression was closed and dark. Making him smile, or even laugh, was a challenge that Harry was happy to uptake.

"She was meant to be in Ravenclaw, you know. But of course the mere idea was scandalous; her parents came in that very day and had her resorted in Dippet's office."

Harry stared at him. "But she's so…"

Tom turned to give him a wryly amused look. "Obsessive? Yes, she spitefully dived into the dark arts in some form of rebellion and corrupted herself."

Harry leant his head in his hands. From what he could tell, Slytherin in the future, in his time, was far more corrupt than they were here. Most of the Slytherins here treated him with some form of mild neglect; as though he were an unwelcome guest. While it wasn't very welcoming, it was far less harsh than Harry suspected, being a 'half-blood' and all.

In the future he would have been ripped to pieces.

"What are you thinking about?" Tom asked, leaning over slightly and placing a kiss on Harry's forehead.

Harry decided then to ignore Tom's random bouts of affection. He sighed and stretched, before saying suddenly, "When is your birthday?"

Tom's only show of surprise was to blink and raise an eyebrow. "On New Year's Eve," he said shortly.

Harry made an incoherent sound and smothered a yawn.

They sat in a peculiarly comfortable silence for a few moments, before Harry murmured, "I want you to stop."

Tom looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed. "Stop what?"

"Stop… this. I don't want to do this… favor-sharing thing you do. No more kisses or anything."

Tom frowned slightly in response. "I have not been with anyone since you arrived. Doesn't that tell you something?"

Harry gave him an uncertain look.

"Would it make you more comfortable if I refrained from seeing other people in the meantime?"

"You just said you don't do relationships," Harry said flatly, staring at him.

" I said I'm not usually acquainted with anyone that I would want to be with."

Harry frowned and moved away slightly. He wasn't stupid; clearly Tom wanted something or he wouldn't bother.

"I don't trust you. You killed my parents."

"I don't expect you to trust me. I hardly hold trust for you."

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "That's hardly the means to start a relationship with."

Tom smiled. "It is if we can both trust each other not to be trustworthy."

Harry rolled his eyes. He looked away. Joke over, he asked quietly, "what is it you want?"

"You, obviously."

Harry scowled at him, ignoring the small flip in his stomach. "Very funny. Spit it out; Slytherins always want something one way or another."

"I didn't think you were the judgmental type, Harry."

"I'm not. But the only Slytherins I really knew were selfish arseholes."

"People are different. Is this a no, then?"

Harry looked at him painfully, and then dropped his gaze to his feet.

"It is."

He heard Tom sigh and felt a hand run affectionately through his hair.

"Next time let me know when you decide to have a little fun with Dorian, then."

Harry laughed softly. "I don't expect that to happen again."

After a while, he said, "What time will the meeting end?"

"At seven. It is only an hour or so long. Why?"

"I'm meant to be meeting Chris here at eight. I don't know his surname…"

"That would be Christopher Doyle," Tom said expressionlessly. "He is the Slytherin Quidditch captain."

"Really?" Harry asked, delighted at that information. "Feels like I haven't played in ages…" he gazed off towards the direction of the Quidditch pitch and wondered how his Firebolt was doing.

"Were you in the team?"

"Yeah, seeker."

"I'm sure Doyle will be able to get you a place, if you can prove you're any good."

Harry shrugged. "Won't be much point, really… I should be returning soon. Oh, bugger… I was meant to see Dumbldore."

With a sigh he stood up.

"Would you like me to come?" Tom asked, rising.

Harry blinked. "No, it's alright… do you think they've found a way to send me back?"

Tom looked at him for a second.

"I hope not."

-

"So, Harry," Dumbledore began, once Harry had placed himself in a chair in Dippet's office. The old man unwrapped a brightly coloured muggle sweet and popped it into his mouth. "Quite simply, as we have very few concepts of time-travel and, ah, time-turners, it may be useful for you to start telling us what you know so far."

Harry shifted in his seat, a frown skipping across his face. "Well," he said, and paused. "I don't really know anything that could be of use. I mean, I don't remember doing anything specific before I woke up in-"

"So you were unconscious when you arrived?" Dippet interrupted.

Harry glanced at him. "I guess so. I was lying in the middle of a corridor near the Astronomy Tower, so I don't imagine I had lain down for a nap."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "And you don't recall doing anything before that?"

"The last thing I remember was my scar bleeding – which is completely normal – so I was about to clean it up. The rest is just blank. When I woke up my robes were still covered in blood, so..."

"Covered in blood, you say?" Dippet remarked. "Exactly how much blood do you lose when the scar bleeds?"

Harry hesitated. "See, that's the thing. It only bled a bit, but my robes were entirely soaked."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "And you weren't injured in any other way?"

"No, not at all."

"When these… _deliberate_ time-travelling incidents occur," Dippet said, "is the traveller prone to receive any painful side-effects?"

"I've only used a time-turner before, which is entirely harmless. I don't know if there are any other forms of time-travel around."

Dumbledore said, "How often does your scar bleed?"

"Lately it's bled every couple of days."

"And how long does the bleeding last?"

"A few seconds, mostly."

"Is it painful?" Dippet wondered aloud.

Only when I have a vision, Harry thought. "Not really, no. Sometimes it burns a bit, but that's about it."

Dippet sighed. "So, it is likely that the copious amount of blood was due to something that had occurred shortly before the time-travel."

He paused thoughtfully.

"Mr. Potter, do you think there is any likely motive for your being sent back in time?" Dumbledore asked, the expression in his eyes strangely intense.

Harry thought about it. The time-travel had either been caused by himself, which he doubted, or someone else, although for what reason he could not decide. Why would someone want to send him fifty years in the past? To get him out of the way, maybe? Out of the way of Voldemort and his far-fetched plans, perhaps. But why…?

Harry shook his head, meeting Dumbledore's gaze. "I don't know. Well. I'm quite well-known, in my time…" he frowned. "I can't think why anyone would want to send me here, other than to, well, get me out of the way. And if I had done it myself, I doubt there would be any blood or loss of memory involved."

"What are you well-known for?" Dippet asked interestedly.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I can't really say."

"Fair enough, but it seems fitting to point out that you don't appear very keen to return," Dippet stated.

Harry looked down at his shoes. To be honest, he wasn't keen on leaving at all. "I have to go back," he said after a pause. "It's just… well; my life in my own time isn't that brilliant. Here, no one really knows who I am. No one stares…" He shifted uncomfortably and looked up to find Dumbledore looking at him with something akin to understanding.

Dippet sighed, and looked at Dumbledore. "What are the available options?"

A thoughtful look returned to the Professor's face as he unwrapped yet another sweet. Finally he mused, "I think we would all agree that there is very little information for us to make any standing decisions. Perhaps you should carry on here, Harry, as you have been doing, and we shall see whether magic will work itself on this issue once again."

Harry nodded slowly, somewhat relieved but still wary. He had to return eventually. He was the only one who could defeat Lord Voldemort, after all. And Merlin, what if the bastard had already attacked Hogwarts?

Suddenly he looked up at Dumbledore. "Can you help me perform a temporary unbreakable vow?"

"A vow?" Dippet remarked, incredulity creeping into his voice. "Whatever for?"

"To keep yourself from revealing too much about the future, I suppose?" Dumbledore mused.

Harry nodded.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," Dumbledore said, twirling his wand and looking at Dippet.

The Headmaster frowned slightly but said, "Very well, if you must."

"Come, then," Dumbledore stood. Harry followed and placed himself in front of the Professor.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Well, then." Dumbledore directed his wand at Harry. "Do you, Harry James Potter, swear an oath to protect any information from the future that may indirectly harm yourself and others?"

"I do," Harry said, and was blinded momentarily by white light.

"Now that that's done," Dippet said impatiently. "It would seem ideal that you get settled down until we can come up with a solution."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, acknowledging the dismissal.

"Good luck on starting your lessons tomorrow," Dumbledore commented as sat once again. "I believe you will be having me for Transfiguration at one point or another."

Finally Harry thanked them and left, heading automatically for the dungeons. His mind was a tumble of thoughts, but strangely he did not feel as worried as he knew he ought to be. He feared for his friends and of course the Order, but at the moment there was little he could do to help them, other than fish around for information. He could even try and enjoy himself, for once.

It was true, what he had told Dippet. No one stared like they used to; no one goggled at his scar, gossiped about him, read ridiculous articles about his love life, or lack thereof. It was as though Harry was in a completely different universe - a brilliant one, with no Lord Voldemort, no prophecy and no death eaters. While Tom Riddle existed, he was not nearly quite as insane and revenge- obsessed as his future self.

When Harry entered the common room, Dorian gestured for him to join the group lounging in the corner.

Tom, sitting on a couch by Cedrella and leafing through a book, looked up as Harry approached.

"Any luck?" he asked expressionlessly, moving over so that Harry could slide in between them.

"None," Harry stated, before hissing a greeting at Anton and watching Dorian sprawl on a pile of cushions at his feet.

"Are you staying here for good then?" Stefan asked suddenly. He was leaning back on a wooden chair at a nearby table, doodling on a piece of parchment.

Harry kicked his shoes off, drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, feeling Tom's warmth burning into his right side. "I don't know," he murmured, stroking Anton's head. The snake was trapped comfortably against his chest.

"_Are you going to keep leaving me often?"_

"_Not if you don't want me to," _Harry replied, a quick glance at his watch telling him that it would be time for lunch in an hour or so.

He looked up when Cedrella snapped her book shut and it disappeared with a small _puff. _

"How do you plan on spending the rest of the day?" she asked him, pulling her legs up and mimicking his position on the couch.

"Until six o' clock, you mean? I don't know. What do you usually do on Sundays?"

She looked thoughtful.

"Read intricate drafts on the extended magical configuration of ancient runes," Dorian suggested for her, flicking through a book on the floor.

He received a face full of cushion in response. Harry snickered at him. "And you?" he asked.

"He usually has someone to irritate," Cedrella remarked.

"Don't be absurd," Dorian said. "How is dear Septimus, by the way?"

Harry watched interestedly as Cedrella frowned, her grip tightening on the cushion in her hands.

"He is… unsure of himself," she murmured, staring at some invisible form in front of her and speaking more to herself than the rest of them.

Dorian pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning back on his hands, and Tom closed the book he was reading to observe her.

"He's finally backing out?" Stefan said, not removing his eyes from the parchment.

Cedrella narrowed her gaze at him. "He doesn't want to cause further problems with my family," she snapped.

"You mean he doesn't want you to get disowned," he muttered.

"And what do you want?" Harry asked her mildly, surveying the complicated markings painted along Anton's scales. Her problem had to be similar to the ordeals that Sirius went through.

When he turned his head to look at her, she had a slightly taken aback expression, as if no one had considered her needs worth noting. She then sighed, and said softly, "I would be happy to just have him."

There was a pause.

"Then what's the problem?" Harry said, looking at the floor and feeling lonely all of a sudden. He wondered what it would feel like to have what Cedrella shared with Septimus, or what Bulstrode shared with her 'fifth year cretin' as Dorian put it. To have what Hermione and Ron had. The only people who had ever wanted to be with Harry _that_ way were either after the attention or wanted to use him. Like Tom.

Cedrella didn't answer, following Harry's gaze to the empty dot on the floor.

"She fears Bulstrode," Tom commented, carefully taking Anton from Harry's lap.

She snorted in response. "Hardly. It is just… he doesn't appear to realize that I no longer care about their… their _ways_. He…"

Harry bumped his shoulder against hers, playfully. "Why don't you go and tell him that, then?"

She stared at him for a long moment. Harry swallowed silently as he stared back into her dark grey eyes. _Sirius' eyes. _

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. "Perhaps I will," she said softly, and abruptly stood and left the common room.

Harry was quick to steal the free space on the couch, letting himself sprawl and acknowledging Dorian's appraising look.

"You were just after her seat," Stefan accused without actually looking up.

Harry smiled at him, but didn't answer. A wave of tiredness suddenly hit him, even though he had slept well the night before. He curled up and closed his eyes, hoping that no one would take the opportunity to hex him. This was the Slytherin common room, after all.

"You shouldn't have gotten up so early," Dorian observed with a smirk. Harry glared stonily at him, which only resulted in widening the boy's smirk.

He wondered briefly whether Tom was always this quiet. It certainly seemed that way. Another wave hit him. Groaning, Harry stood and swayed slightly.

"Don't fall on me, please," Dorian said, moving away slightly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Wake me in time for that meeting," he muttered, stealing Anton back and heading for the boys dormitory.

-

Harry felt a warm hand on his forehead, and then in his hair. He opened his eyes, tired, to find Tom sitting by him. A quick flashback of that morning flittered across Harry's mind and he closed his eyes in some form of dismay.

"Wake up, Harry. We need to go, now."

"Tom," Harry muttered. He reopened his eyes, and could see that it was now quite dark outside.

The hand caressed his cheek. "Come on, Harry."

Harry sighed and sat up, stifling a yawn and not understanding why he was so dramatically tired.

Ten minutes later he and Tom arrived at an unimpressive timber door, far deeper in the dungeons than the common room.

Tom murmured something and the door creaked open on its own, revealing a huge well-lit room full of murmuring students and the odd pop of a school house-elf appearing.

Behind the small crowd Harry could see a long mahogany table similar to that of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. It sat between a row of pillars, and at the end wall there hung a few large, immensely surly-looking portraits.

Harry allowed Tom to take his hand and lead him into the room, gaining the stares of the nearby students.

"Harry," Dorian appeared beside him. "Welcome to the Slug Club. Well, part of it, anyway. The rest have deigned to arrive yet."

"This way," Tom said, and led him through the gathering to Slughorn, who stood beaming at, Harry recognized, Abraxas Malfoy. The boy had an empty expression of complacency as he looked up at his professor. He wandered away when they approached.

"Harry," Slughorn greeted, his smile widening. "How are you today? Made lots of friends? I'm sure Tom has been looking after you well. Come, we are about to eat. You can sit by me, and we'll wait for the others to arrive."

He left no room for answer. He went and sat at the head of the table, and a quick nudge from Dorian told Harry to follow. He sat in the seat to the side of the professor, while Dorian took the place beside him and Tom sat opposite.

The students began to follow suit, taking their places at the long table.

"What happens when you run out of seats?" Harry asked Dorian amidst the chatter.

"The table extends itself when room is needed. You should have seen it when the club started off."

"How long has it been going?"

"Three years next week," Slughorn announced cheerfully, listening in on them. "Which is why we will be having a party on Saturday. But we will talk about that after the food."

Harry glanced up when three more students entered the room. He didn't recognize them. The table was now half full.

"Shouldn't Cedrella be here?" he mused.

"We have not seen her since you sent her away from the common room," Tom said with an arched eyebrow.

"Oh," Harry said. "I wonder how that's going."

"Well, your answer has arrived." Dorian supplied. Harry followed his gaze to the door and blinked in surprise.

Cedrella entered, hand-in-hand with a tall, mature-looking redheaded boy, obviously from Gryffindor. She was smiling.

"Well done, Harry," Tom mused, watching them approach.

There was a quiet hush when the pair reached the table, as though the Slytherins were attempting to become adjusted to the fact that a Slytherin girl was interested in a Gryffindor. A Weasley, no less.

The pair seemed unconcerned. Either that, or they were ignoring it.

"Harry," Cedrella smiled at him. "This is Septimus."

Harry returned her smile, pleased to see someone so happy. Septimus had his own dark smile, one that didn't suit a Gryffindor but made him look good nevertheless. Harry thought he looked very much like Bill Weasley, just without the wild rugged look.

"Pleased to meet you," he smiled.

"The pleasure is mine," Septimus returned.

"Jolly good," Slughorn said cheerfully, pride adorning his voice. "Please take a seat. The last ones should be here any minute now- ah, here we are."

Stefan Avery entered the room, followed by a group of students talking in hushed whispers. Harry saw Chris with them.

When everyone was seated, Slughorn stood and a hush descended upon the table.

"Announcements come afterwards. Now is the time to feast." He clapped his hands twice together and plates appeared on the table, followed by steaming dishes of food. The students voiced a general cheer and began to dig in.

Harry was about to pile food onto his plate when he noticed Anton sliding up onto Tom's shoulder.

"_Yum," _the snake hissed.

"He likes you," Harry noted mildly.

Tom smirked and took Anton down. "Of course. Take him, he keeps pestering me."

Harry took the snake and gave Tom a suspicious look. "He's not still going on about mating, is he?"

Dorian snorted beside him. Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

"It is customary, Harry. He finds it odd that you haven't chosen a mating partner this year."

Harry frowned. "Don't snakes hibernate in winter?"

"They do, but Anton doesn't need to, since you have adopted him. He has all the food he can eat."

"He's called Anton?" Dorian said, amused.

Harry gave him an odd look. "Didn't you know?"

The boy rolled his eyes and refrained from answering.

"About that, Potter," Slughorn interrupted. "How _did _you come by Parseltongue? It _is _a rather rare gift, after all."

Harry opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out. He frowned. _Oh_. The vow. _Phew. _He noticed Tom narrow his eyes slightly.

Slughorn cleared his throat.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I don't know why."

The man frowned, and then suddenly an intrigued expression crossed his face.

"Perhaps you are connected with Tom in some form," he mused.

Harry tried not to choke on the food in his mouth.

"How is that potion progressing, Professor?" Tom interjected, watching Harry carefully.

Harry frowned and noticed Dorian watching the whole reaction from the side.

"Quite, quite well, thank you Tom. I may need a couple more ingredients eventually, but all in good time. All in good time."

They went into a complicated discussion about the potion and Harry down looked at Anton, eating chicken on his lap.

"_How are you?" _he hissed softly, stroking the scaly head.

"_Good. I can smell him."_

"_Huh?" _Harry said, confused. He looked up at Dorian, who was watching him.

"_Oh." _He laughed.

"What is it this time?" Dorian asked.

"Nothing," Harry said evasively, and reached for the potatoes.

"Oh, come now. Mating partners again?"

"Not this time. He likes the way you smell."

Harry received an incredulous look.

"The way I _smell_? Interesting."

Harry grinned at him.

"And do you share his opinion?" Dorian said casually, twirling his knife in one hand.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Potter," someone called from down the table. Harry looked up.

"Say something in Parseltongue, if you're really a Parselmouth."

Harry frowned. He stabbed his fork in the meat on his plate. Dorian snickered at him.

"I'm not, really," Harry answered. "It's all a lie."

Anton ruined the effect by slithering up to his shoulder. There was a collective draw-in of breath. Harry sighed.

He looked at Tom. "Do you ever get this?"

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Not unless the questioner wants to be hexed to pieces," Dorian said.

"Ah," Harry said.

The meal soon ended. Slughorn rose, clapped the table clean and waited for the students to be silent.

"As you all may well know," he began, "there is an upcoming party next weekend at seven. We will be celebrating the third year of our _dear_ Slug club."

There was an all-round cheer from the table.

"Secondly, I would like you all to welcome a certain newcomer. Mister Harry Potter has joined the school and our little gang. I hope you will all make him welcome."

At his words there was a collective greeting. Harry just nodded as he prevented Anton from pouncing on Dorian.

"And lastly-"

Harry had no idea what the third thing was as the words of the voice seemed to merge and become incredibly loud.

An abrupt weakness seeped into his bones. He swayed and gripped the edge of the table with a hand, looking down at his lap as his vision blurred.

He felt a hand take a firm hold of his elbow.

"Tired," he attempted, before blackness filled his vision.

-

Harry woke up in his four-poster, feeling exhausted all over again. With a weary groan he pushed himself up and checked his watch. It was around half seven. And he had promised to meet Chris at eight.

He forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The dormitory was deserted. He quickly washed, dried, brushed his teeth and went in search of clothes. He pulled on a pair of black jeans and a dark blue jumper, attempted and failed to smooth his hair down, and left for the common room.

"Harry," Dorian approached him the second his finished descending the stairs. "How are you feeling?"

Harry looked at him searchingly. "Tired," he said finally.

The boy frowned at him, but had no time to answer as Tom appeared.

"Harry. You seem a bit better now. Aren't you due to meet Doyle at eight?"

Doyle. Christopher Doyle. "Yes," Harry murmured. It was a quarter to.

"Why are you meeting Doyle?" Dorian asked, frowning.

Harry shrugged tiredly and went for the nearest chair. "Why not?" he said, slumping and tugging at his hair.

"Perhaps he will allow you to apply for the Quidditch team," Tom said expressionlessly, taking the seat next to him.

"Maybe," Harry said. The sound of Quidditch alone sounded exhausting to him right now.

Fifteen minutes later his eyes scanned the common room and landed on Chris, who was standing by the door talking to a girl Harry didn't recognize.

Harry stood. "Ill see you later," he said, smiling when Anton moved and curled up on the warm spot Harry had left on the chair.

"Enjoy yourself," Dorian said warily.

Harry didn't know what the problem was, but he shrugged it off and made his way towards the Quidditch captain.

"Harry," Chris said, smiling. "Are you feeling better now? I saw you collapse earlier."

"Was it really that bad?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes but returning the boy's smile.

"Well, you did rather surprise everyone, including Riddle. Shall we go for a walk?"

Harry agreed and they left the common room together, heading ultimately in the direction of the Entrance hall.

"Tom tells me that you're the Quidditch captain," Harry mentioned.

"He was right. What else did he say about me?"

Harry laughed. "Nothing."

"Are you fond of Quidditch, then?"

Harry smiled brightly, suddenly remembering the thrill of riding his Firebolt. "Yeah," he murmured.

"We can go for a fly now, if you'd like," Chris suggested, watching Harry as they walked.

Harry looked at him. "Really? I haven't flown in ages."

"Come on, then."

They chatted easily on the way to the Quidditch pitch. Harry marveled at how effortless it was to talk to Chris, and wondered once again why Tom and Dorian seemed somewhat averse to him.

When they reached the broom shed he realized with reluctance that he would have to fly one of the slowest brooms in existence. Oh well, he thought. Better than nothing.

They mounted their brooms. "Ready?" Chris said cheerfully, the wind ruffling his light hair.

Harry nodded and they kicked off. For the first time in weeks, all his troubles seemed to stream away.

Harry _flew_.


	5. Chapter 5

"I hear you were offered a position on the team," Dorian commented, back in the dormitory. He was, as usual, lounging on his four poster and observing Harry, who in turn was leaning against the wooden post of his own four poster, opposite.

"Yeah," he answered absently. His thoughts were lingering on the expressionless hazel eyes that had followed him from his entrance in the common room to the door of the dormitory.

"But you declined?"

Harry sighed. "Yes." He was far too busy quietly rejoicing in his current un-famous life to pursue something that would undoubtedly bring him more attention. He was vividly aware that he was already receiving far more notice than he would have liked, perhaps due to Tom's reputation.

He glanced up at Dorian. The frown on friend's face vanished when their eyes met.

"What don't you like about Chris?" Harry injected suddenly, bluntly, his curiosity growing wildly with every distasteful look they directed at the blond boy.

He received a surprised look, then a startled life. "You may find that Doyle isn't quite as innocent as he seems."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that he is simply using you to get back onto Sluggy's good side."

Harry frowned at him, unsure of what he was supposed to make of this sudden news. Dorian sighed patiently and slid onto to the floor to sprawl opposite Harry.

"It's already about the castle that Slughorn is taken with you, mainly because you've been adopted by Tom."

He raised a hand at Harry's protests.

"The thing is, you_ are_ with Tom. Whether you've accepted it yet or not, Tom has picked you out and everyone is aware of it. That aside, Doyle most likely believes that, with you by his side, he'll be welcomed back into the circle of favorites."

"I suppose you're in that?"

"Naturally. Anyone considered close to Tom is immediately in."

Harry snorted. "Of course."

They paused.

"What did he do to… er, leave the circle?"

Doyle merely waved a hand. "That's irrelevant."

"Even so, that doesn't explain your dislike of him. Somehow I doubt it's because he's trying to use me."

"It doesn't matter. It's personal."

Harry frowned. "Alright."

"Anyway, you might want to stay away from him."

Harry dragged himself up to sprawl on the four poster. "What for?" He could feel Dorian's incredulous expression.

"I don't really care what he does. Besides, I like him; I don't exactly lose or gain anything either way. And as far as I'm concerned, I doubt Tom has 'adopted' me simply for my personality."

"Not everyone in this house is out for their own personal gain."

Harry stared at him. Finally he sighed. "I know. Sorry."

Finding the floor uncomfortable, Harry toed of his shoes and climbed onto the four-poster. He looked up to find himself under the Slytherin's scrutiny, which made him shift awkwardly, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Dorian got up and crawled onto Harry's bed, sitting alongside him and mimicking his sprawl.

Harry turned his face to look at him. They're faces were inches apart, and he was immediately engaged by the other boy's ridiculously blue eyes.

They kissed, and Harry vaguely remembered their conversation about being used. But frankly, when he was messing around with Dorian like this, he didn't care. He knew what they were doing. It was more of a game than anything else.

He only laughed when Dorian pushed him forcefully onto his back and rolled on top of him.

It was later, when he lying on his own in the dark, gazing up at the black ceiling, that Harry felt an ounce of betrayal towards Christopher Doyle.

By morning Harry was vaguely aware of the dream that had once again returned, and had, he found to his dismay, again left behind a mess on his sheets. Try as he might, he could not recall the face of the dream-stranger that had visited him, but the person (and Harry was certain it was a he) had come accompanied with an unaccountable amount of pleasure.

Harry could only acknowledge silently, as he followed Tom down to breakfast, that it most likely wasn't the last time the dream would visit him.

Of course, the first subject that he was to start in turned out to be his least favourite: double potions. Fortunately, he had Tom's help to rely on, as well as Cedrella's, who was apparently brilliant at potions and had listened to him explain beforehand that he had never been correctly taught in the subject.

So it was that he sat in between Cedrella and Tom on the back row in the potions classroom, staring confusedly at the instructions on the board and wondering how long it would take for Tom to get fed up with his incompetence.

"Don't worry, I'll help you," Cedrella said reassuringly, apparently noticing his puzzled expression. As far as Harry could tell, the potion they were meant to be making was a weaker version of the future's Veritaserum, which he hardly knew how to brew anyway.

Tom, on his other side, merely gave him an amused look.

"This is the latest version of truth serum," Cedrella was saying. "Father says it is absolutely useless; it does the same job and takes longer to brew."

"The effects are supposed to last longer, I'll assume," Tom said, standing up to fetch the ingredients. Each student had their own cauldron.

"Yes, but the problem is, they don't. Why do they think adding Unicorn hair will prolong the effect? It's only meant to be used in healing potions."

Someone in the front row turned round to answer, since Tom had wandered off.

"I think they think it reacts with the roots, so long as it has a chemical base."

"Perhaps, but the entire thing cancels out when you add the Wormwood."

"No, no, that reacts with the Skrewt's blood before it can mess the rest up. That's why you put them in first."

Harry started at the boy, utterly lost. The boy grinned at him. "Potions not your favorite subject?"

"Um, no, I just had a crappy teacher," Harry answered solemnly as Tom returned.

"What, did they refuse to explain anything, or something?"

"Something like that. They could have, but I'm not their favorite person in the world."

"I'll talk you through it," Cedrella said. "Here, let's set everything up. Right. First we need to make the base, which has to be chemical-"

"Why?"

"Sorry?"

"Why does it have to chemical?"

Cedrella stared. "They really didn't explain much at all, then?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Okay, fine, right from the beginning. Every psychological potion needs a chemical base. I don't know why. That's just what they drill into us in our first year. Now…"

Cedrella explained the purpose of every ingredient, why they needed to be put in at certain times, how each one reacted differently to the contents, and with Harry's concentration and many amusing remarks from Tom, he got the hang of it. For once, he admitted to himself, he was enjoying and actually understanding the subject. This could partly be due to the fact that he didn't have a greasy Potions Master leaning over his shoulder.

"Okay, that looks about right," Cedrella said towards the end, staring intently at the substance in Harry's cauldron and then turning towards hers.

Professor Slughorn then announced that they could test their potions on the person to their right, on the condition that they asked responsible questions and kept the antidote handy.

Tom, on Harry's right, gave him a sly look. Cedrella smirked at Harry. Thank Merlin he had taken the vow before it was too late, Harry thought. Otherwise he might go blurting his and Tom's secrets all over the school.

Harry edged his chair away from the narrow-eyed look Tom was giving him.

"Here you are." Cedrella said, scooping up some of the transparent slop from her cauldron into a small vial. She handed it to Harry, who took it reluctantly. "Knock it back," she said.

Harry did. He made a face, it tasted awful. He turned to Cedrella, who was giving him an intent look.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Harry James Potter," he answered automatically.

"When were you born?"

Harry panicked. "Thirty-first of July."

"What Year?"

Harry could feel Tom watching him. He opened his mouth, under the influence of the truth potion, but no sound came out, due to the vow.

"Um," he said eventually.

Cedrella frowned. "What is it?"

They also had the attention from the boy in front. "Maybe there's a problem with the potion," he suggested, unwisely.

Cedrella scowled fiercely at him.

"I don't know. Ask another question," Harry said.

She looked thoughtful, then smirked slightly and said, "What do you think of Dorian Rosier?"

Harry cocked his head to the side. He answered carefully, "He's very Slytherin."

Tom snorted.

Cedrella smiled. "Do you fancy him?"

"In what way?"

"In a sexual way."

"Who doesn't?"

She laughed and handed him the antidote. "Well answered."

Harry knocked it back, tried not to gag at the taste, and then turned to Tom.

"You know, if I hadn't had help, this would probably kill you," Harry said thoughtfully as he handed his vial of potion to Tom.

The boy in front snickered.

Tom looked at him intently, with the hint of a smile. "Would you care?"

"Of course not."

Tom smirked at him. He drank it.

Harry stared at him, wondering what to ask. He decided to take the Cedrella route. "What do _you_ think of Dorian Rosier?"

Tom looked contemplative. "He has a very talented mouth," he mused.

Harry laughed at him.

"Do you fancy him?"

"In what way?" Tom mimicked.

"In a sexual way."

"Oh yes."

Cedrella was laughing behind him. Harry smiled. "Alright, here you go," he handed him the antidote.

A glance at his new time-table told Harry that he was granted with a free period before Transfigurations. He was wandering through the castle aimlessly, after lunch, as he had been doing lately when he heard what was undoubtedly a heated argument going on in an empty classroom, which turned out, surprisingly, to be Charlus Potter scolding his quiet nephew.

Harry listened by the door.

"But who did you tell?" Charlus was saying, sounding agitated. He was probably towering over his second year nephew, who Harry remembered was small and quiet, if not shy.

"No one, I didn't tell _anyone_."

"But you must have. _I_ certainly wouldn't have, and who else knows, apart from the family? That leaves you."

"But I didn't. I don't know how she found out. She must have eaves-dropped."

"Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. _No one_ must find out, do you hear? Or that's my reputation down the drain. I swear, if I find out you told…"

"I didn't, I promise."

"Yes, well, remember that I can easily obliviate you, should it come to that."

There was pause. Harry was scowling fiercely. Why would a Potter threaten to obliviates their own nephew over a secret?

"Is that what you did to her?" Henry said quietly.

"What?"

"Did you obliviate her?"

"Obviously. I couldn't just let her go around blurting it out to everyone."

After a moment, Charlus' tone changed. He said consolingly, "Now, you know that I trust you, don't I?"

Harry gaped.

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Just keep quiet, the way you usually do. Don't blurt anything out. And stay away from that 'new' Potter. I don't know how much he knows."

"He… he helped me out, the other day."

"I don't care, just stay away from him. This is too important."

Harry took his cue to leave. He silently left the corridor for the dungeons, thinking.

What reason would a seventeen year old Potter have for threatening to obliviate their twelve year old nephew in order to keep something quiet? It made Harry think of how he was related to both those Potters. Was Charlus James' father? He didn't know, but he hoped not. Mostly, Harry felt disappointed.

When he was nearing the dungeons he found Chris walking towards him with an irritated expression which vanished when his eyes landed on Harry.

"Hello," the blond boy said, seeming to force a smile.

"What's wrong?" Harry replied genuinely.

"Oh, nothing, just that prattish friend of yours."

"Tom?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No, the other. Rosier."

"What was he doing?"

"Nothing much, just trying to manipulate me the way he usually does. Think nothing of it."

Harry frowned. Dorian manipulating Chris?

"Hey, do you want to go for a walk?"

"Sure, why not," Harry said agreeably. He had an hour or so left.

"Let's go outside, then. The weather's nice."

They were wandering at a slow pace along the edge of the lake, chatting, when Chris said, "I still can't believe you wont play as seeker. You're quite brilliant."

Harry smiled, feeling his cheeks grow warm. "Thanks, but I just…"

"Don't want the attention, I know."

Harry shrugged. "What's the current team like?"

"Oh, it's alright. At least, it will be when I find a seeker. Look, the nearest match is in two weeks, and if I haven't got one… will you play? Just for that game."

Harry sighed, but couldn't resist the earnest look the blond boy was sending him. "Oh, fine. But just that match."

Chris grinned at him, happily. "Good. Very good. I think, with you, we could easily thrash Ravenclaw."

"What's their seeker like?"

"That would be Sam Archer. He's good, but too heavy."

"He can't be that great with dives, then?"

"Exactly, and maneuvering, but he has brilliant eyesight. Let's sit here."

They sprawled out on a grassy bank, not far from the Forbidden Forest. The last day or two were marginally hot, for October.

"Mind if I take my shirt off?" Chris said absently. He rolled it into a ball and lay back, using it as a pillow.

Harry contentedly observed him, while he played with a blade of grass. Chris certainly wasn't lacking, body-wise.

"What?" he mused, catching Harry observing him.

Harry smiled. "Nothing."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Will you go with Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" Chris asked suddenly.

Harry was taken aback. He wondered if the Slytherin meant as friends, or…

"Unless you're going with Riddle, or someone."

Harry smiled. "I'm not. Sure, I'll go with you." He received a slightly relieved look.

Chris smiled. "Good."

Harry's Transfigurations class with Professor Dumbledore was certainly interesting. The man's beaming eccentricity and infinite knowledge applied to Transfiguration certainly left Harry bemused by the end.

He was called back after class.

"I trust your lessons so far have been satisfactory?"

Harry smiled. "They've certainly been interesting."

"And how are you getting on with your classmates?"

"Very well, thank you, Professor."

"Good, good. Has that vow come in handy?"

Harry told him about the Veritaserum.

"Ah, we were just in time, then. Very well, it is good to know you are fitting in."

Harry was soon dismissed. The rest of the class had already left, and he was alone once more. In daydreaming he soon found that he was subconsciously making his way toward Gryffindor tower. Cursing silently, he began to make the long trip down to the dungeons.

A sound in the corridor made him stop in his tracks. He knew what it was. In the classroom nearby, someone, or someones, were _panting_.

He could see from where he was that the door was half open, and in walking pass he would be able to see the suspects. Well, there was nothing for it. This was the quickest way to the dungeons.

It was Tom. He was leaning over a boy, in fact the same boy who had sat next to him in Transfigurations, and with his hands gripping the panting boy's thighs, was thrusting into him carelessly.

Harry soon managed to recover his composure. He was shocked. He was near horrified. Most of all, he was _hurt, _and it was this that led him to keep his face completely blank when Tom's eyes rose and met his.

Harry raised a mocking eyebrow, and then darted away.

Tuesday for Harry was awkward. As he quickly made his way down to breakfast, earlier than usual, he knew he would have to face Tom. And he knew that he would get a vaguely amused mask of indifference in return for his awkwardness. Having grudgingly accepted that he had been _hurt_, Harry was furious with himself for letting Tom Riddle, of all people, get to him. In a burst of cynicism he decided that the situation would be fittingly ironic had Voldemort sent him back in time only to fall for Tom Riddle to bring about his downfall.

Harry had spent half the night brooding, wondering how it was that Tom could grow up entirely emotionless, and the other half was spent being plagued by the same mysterious dream-persona. Added to this his tired collapse in the bathroom that morning, Harry was fairly moody by the time he set off for breakfast.

He knew, as he meandered into the hall, that Tom had done nothing out of the ordinary. Harry had rejected him days before, and Tom had no reason not to continue his trysts with other random students. Besides, Harry had been having his own rendezvous with Dorian. What right did he have to feel jealous?

A few students littered the hall already, but only Cedrella sat at the Slytherin table.

"Morning," Harry said solemnly, claiming the spot next to her.

"You're up early." She snapped her book shut and looked at him strangely.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I couldn't sleep."

"Something happened. What is it?"

Harry stared at her incredulously. "What?"

She just gave him a calculating stare.

"Am I that obvious?"

She smirked at him. "It's the art of being a Slytherin. Everyone else is easy to read, but Slytherins keep their emotions hidden away."

"And that's a good thing?" Harry muttered, flicking a bit of bacon off the table.

"It comes in handy. But even a Hufflepuff could sense your moodiness a mile away."

Harry scowled. Then he sighed. "I'll get over it."

"You'll get over what?" Dorian joined them, and then scoured the hall. "Where's Tom? You usually come down with him."

Harry shrugged.

"Hogsmeade soon!" Bulstrode sung, sitting opposite Harry. "Going with anyone, Potter? Oh wait; you're with _Tom_, aren't you?"

He scowled at her. "I'm not with Tom. I never _have _been with Tom. I'm going with Chris."

Dorian paused in his reach for the scrambled eggs. "Doyle? You're going to Hogsmeade with Doyle?"

Harry frowned at him. "Yeah. Why?"

Bulstrode snickered. "Tom isn't going to be happy."

"Mind your own business," Harry snapped.

"Oo, someone's grouchy this morning."

Harry blew out a puff of air and stared defiantly up at the ceiling.

"Harry, Harry._ Why _are you going with Doyle?" Dorian said, ignoring Bulstrode's antics.

"Because he asked me. Why would I refuse?"

"I can think of a few reasons," Bulstrode said cryptically.

"Well, keep them to yourself," Cedrella said. "Here comes Tom."

"Good morning," Tom said lazily, waiting for Dorian to move over so that he could sit between him and Harry.

"Heard the latest news, Tom?" Bulstrode said. Harry glared at her. He decided to concentrate on his bacon. Really, he'd never seen bacon so well-cooked.

"Oh?" Tom said indifferently, leaning over Harry to take Cedrella's book. He observed the cover while Bulstrode talked.

"_Potter _here is going to Hogsmeade with _Doyle_." She laughed hysterically for a moment as if it were the funniest thing one could ever hear.

Cedrella gave her an odd look. "Are you still taking that Dreamless Sleep? I told you it's addictive."

Bulstrode scowled fiercely, while Harry was relieved that the conversation had moved on.

"Marie!" someone called from down the table. "Go with me to Hogsmeade!"

"Not on your life!" Bulstrode snapped back.

Dorian snickered. "Still with Carrow?"

"Not that it's any of your business-" Harry snorted "-but yes. What's so funny, Potter?"

Harry was suddenly filled with an alarming bout of unexplained energy. Dismissing his confusion for now, he said joyously, "Nothing, nothing." It was alright for Bulstrode to pry into other people's business, but for someone to interfere with _hers_…

She glared at him.

To his relief, Harry's lessons that day did not put him in a situation where he would be alone with Tom. He knew he would have to talk to the boy alone eventually, and he was aware that Tom wouldn't bring yesterday up since it was none of Harry's business - a factor that he was marginally relieved about. But by now Harry had decided that while he liked Tom, he hated his almost-constant pretence of everything he encountered. He was manipulative, and he was cruel. And addictive and charming. And, well, quite handsome. Harry hated him.

However, he didn't receive Tom's attentions that day. Nor the next. It didn't take a genius to guess that junior Dark Lord was ignoring him. Not that Harry cared. He was a mixture of confusion and exasperation, but eventually he put it down to the fact that Tom had gotten bored of him. Which he could handle.

On Wednesday, he was flicking through an old Dark Arts book when Tom entered the otherwise empty dormitory.

Harry gave him a silent stare, which wasn't quite as effective when Tom came forward and he had to crane his neck up.

"Still ignoring me?" Tom said, an amused smile adorning his face. Harry felt like hitting him. "Don't I even get a 'hello'?"

"Hello," Harry answered flatly, standing up, annoyed at the advantage Tom had in standing over him.

They stared at each other for a moment, until Harry broke the ice. "Dorian's in the library."

"Is he?" came the nonchalant answer, to which he scowled.

"What do you want, then?" he demanded, tired of the conversation already.

Tom gave a casual shrug and turned to wander about the dorm, eyes on the wand in his hand, although Harry was aware that he was the sole object of Tom's attention.

"I wanted to see you," Tom said.

"What for?

"A number of reasons. Firstly, Dumbledore still hasn't found anything and thinks it likely you'll have to stay here for Christmas."

Harry stared. "But that's ages away."

"It's only a few months. Also, I'm slightly curious as to why you've been avoiding me."

"I haven't," Harry said defensively. "I'd say it's more of the other way round."

"Perhaps. I've been busy lately."

"Yes, I've noticed."

Tom smirked. "Is this about that boy?"

"What boy?" Harry shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You know very well what boy."

Harry snorted. "Does he even have a name?"

Tom looked thoughtful for a moment. "Joseph, I believe. I'll have to check later."

Harry was torn between wry amusement and frustration. It must have shown on his face, because Tom came to a halt in front of him and smiled.

"Remind me why you're here?" he said, annoyed.

"I missed you."

Harry laughed at the prospect. "Right."

Tom continued to give him that annoying smile. "So are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"What the problem is. If it's not the boy, then what is it?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's just the fact that I'm trying to get over who you really are. Maybe I wish I had ended up in my parent's time in Hogwarts so that I could meet them, instead of ending up here to play pointless manipulative Slytherin games with the person who killed them in the first place."

Tom stared at him silently for a while. "You still think of me as… Voldemort."

"Yeah, well, you're very much the same. Except Voldy has a foul temper."

Tom snorted. He reached out to put his hand on Harry's waist but Harry wasn't having it. He stepped back to find he was stuck between Tom and the four-poster. "Don't. Go and find Joseph, or whatever his name was, if that's all you're after."

"Jealousy is unbecoming."

"Who's jealous?" It was said scornfully, but Harry knew he was sinking in denial.

Tom took another step forward and Harry had an overwhelming sense of de ja vu. However, he was tired of Tom's games and didn't want to give in so easily.

"Harry, Harry..." Tom said, all amusement.

"_Don't_." Harry pushed him away and moved towards the door. "I'm not going to be another one of your…your…"

"Whores?" Tom suggested thoughtfully.

"Exactly." His journey out of the room was halted when the door snapped shut with a click.

"I'll make you a deal," Tom said pleasantly, pocketing his wand.

Harry turned to him, eyes narrowed, very aware that his wand was lying pathetically on his bed, behind Tom. "No thanks."

"You don't know what I was going to suggest."

"I'm sure it will be manipulative somehow."

"Well, of course."

"Well, then."

"Perhaps you should hear me out before you jump to conclusions? I was going to say-"

"Look, I don't want to know-"

"It is rude to interrupt, Harry."

Harry blew out a puff of air and tugged at his hair in a dramatic act of frustration.

Tom smirked at him. "Anyway. If I refrain from trysting with nameless schoolboys, will you stop ignoring me?"

Harry stared at him. "No. You can tryst with as many nameless schoolboys as you want. Don't let me hold you back."

"I want us to be friends."

"You're lying."

Tom began to look annoyed. He crossed the room, wand out again, and backed Harry against the wall. "I'm beginning to get irritated, Harry. I don't like being called a liar when I offer my friendship."

"But that's just it, isn't it?" Harry managed, mentally cursing his stupidity. The tip of Tom's wand seemed to sit comfortably against his throat. "It's not friendship you want. I know how you use people. And I'm not willing to be used like the rest, and certainly not by _you_."

Tom's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You haven't even given me a chance. Perhaps you're not the devout Gryffindor I thought you were."

Harry glared at him. "Give me a decent reason for being your _friend_."

Tom gave him a cool look. "As I said, Dumbledore thinks you may have to remain here for quite a while. Which means you'll be with me for quite a while. And unless you want every lesson to be immensely awkward, I suggest we stay on speaking terms."

"Look," Harry began, before suddenly grabbing hold of the nearest thing to prevent himself collapsing, which just so happened to be Tom's arm. "Woah," he breathed, a hand on his head.

"What is it?" Tom said urgently, supporting him.

"All of a sudden…really tired." With that, everything went black. Again.

When Harry awoke, it was dark. Either that, or his exhaustion had left him temporarily blind, but he was inclined to believe it was the former.

He was lying in his four-poster, and if the warmth on his right was anything to go by, so was Tom. Sitting up quickly with a bounce of energy, he decided that he didn't want Tom in his bed, and so proceeded to tug on one of the boy's black locks.

His invasion came to a halt when Tom raised a sleepy arm and dragged him down again. "Sleep, Harry."

Harry lay there and fidgeted. There was definitely something wrong with him. He could go and see Madam Pomfrey – or whoever the nurse was in this time, but he was certain that whatever was happening to him wasn't normal. Since when did people faint from exhaustion and then have bursts of energy an hour later? It wasn't normal. Not that he was normal, but it would be nice if something normal _did_ happen to him.

He sat up again, and discarded the idea of trekking down to the kitchens. He didn't have his Invisibility cloak and besides, it was cold. He wouldn't have Tom keeping his side warm.

Harry suddenly decided that it was odd that they only had one pillow between them. With an excited grin he rummaged around the bed for his wand. He was _sure _he had left it here earlier…

"Harry…" Tom said, voice slightly colder and more like his future-self. "_What_ are you doing?"

"What did you do with my wand?" he demanded, kneeling with hands on hips. It was dark enough that he could see Tom's outline.

"Why?" came the suspicious reply.

"We need more pillows." Harry grinned.

With a frustrated sigh Tom sat up, pushed Harry back down and leant over him so that he could fish the wand out from down the side of the bed.

Instead of giving it to him he used it to multiply the one pillow by ten, leaving Harry frowning.

"Now there're too many," he complained.

"Merlin…" Tom muttered. "Damn side-effects."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." He took hold of Harry's bare shoulder and pulled him forward to kiss him.

"What are you…oh." Harry was excited again. Everything was wrong, and all his current problems loomed down at him as he kissed his enemy, but weirdly, and for the first time, the fact that he was getting it off with the Dark Lord really appealed to him. Obviously it wasn't something he would do often but at the moment it seemed oddly exhilarating.

With a pleasant sigh he relaxed and let Tom take complete control. He allowed himself to fall into a daze, and his mind didn't register when Tom pulled both of their clothes off, nor did he think any longer of his bizarre mood swings. He had fallen into bliss.

In the morning he was vaguely aware of the absence of a certain dream.

Harry passed the rest of the week in a daze. He no longer knew where he stood with Tom.

He had yet to visit the Hospital Wing as he was suddenly bogged down with what he considered out-of-date homework.

In silence he had accepted the night with Tom, but they didn't talk about it. Every now and then Tom would give him a knowing smile (which Harry found infuriating) but he seemed preoccupied with other distant things that Harry didn't know about. They talked and laughed and Tom helped him in lessons, but he didn't try anything. It made Harry give a tiny glimpse at the thought that maybe he had made the wrong choice in rejecting him.

And he soon began to wonder why he had become so obsessed.

Saturday morning left him standing against a wall in the entrance hall. Chris was late.

"Still here, Harry?" Dorian said, arriving conveniently instead.

Harry gave him a suspicious stare. "I thought you had gone ahead with everyone else."

Dorian shrugged. "I found the company painfully boring. I don't suppose you've seen Thomas since breakfast, have you?"

"Er, no. I thought he was with you."

"So where's Doyle?"

Harry crossed his arms and stared back at the condescending stare. "What have you done to him?"

Dorian laughed. "_I_ haven't done anything. Oh look, here comes the Almighty."

"Still here?" Tom said, sounding entirely bored.

Harry completely ignored how _good_ and _dark_ the other boy looked and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Just waiting. You haven't seen Chris recently, have you?" He couldn't keep the hint of suspicion out of his voice.

Tom gave him a cool smile. "Has he stood you up?"

"I don't know. Has he?"

"Well, why don't you join us for a while? Until he catches up," Dorian suggested, looking in disdain down at the coins in his hand.

Harry sighed. "Fine.

"Here." Tom handed over Anton, who hissed his pleasure at returning down Harry's shirt.

"Thanks," Harry said, pleased to see the snake.

"You ought to buy him a companion," Dorian said thoughtfully as they began to walk.

"I thought snakes were solitary creatures?"

"I wouldn't call Tom solitary."

Harry snickered. "I would."

"I don't think Anton will appreciate a 'friend'," Tom mused. "He's too attached to you."

Dorian laughed. "Poor sod will be jealous."

Harry smirked. He was, however, aware of the underlying meaning of the conversation.

"Maybe I should ask him," he said.

"No. Definitely not. Not while I'm here," Dorian muttered.

"Why?" Harry frowned.

"He feels left out," Tom said as they reached the bustling town.

"Hardly," denied Dorian. "Why don't we visit the Hog's Head?"

Harry found that the inside of the Hog's Head had an entirely different atmosphere to its future self – in fact it was very much like The Three Broomsticks in Harry's time. Maybe The Three Broomsticks didn't exist yet? Whatever the case, Harry found himself trapped in a corner at a round table, Tom on one side, Dorian on the other, shoving a drink into his hand.

He wondered where Chris was. And he wondered whether Tom and/or Dorian _had_ done anything to the blond boy. If they had, he didn't currently know what the consequences would be.

He stared down at the drink, which appeared to be a very alcoholic version of Butterbeer, if the smell was anything to go by. A sip made him wrinkle his face in distaste, but he found himself wanting more.

He could feel eyes watching him, and looked up to see Tom giving him an amused look. Dorian was eyeing Anton warily, as the snake slid onto the table to get a taste of Harry's drink.

"This… _stuff_ is worse every time we come here," Dorian commented, watching Anton take a tentative lap and then draw back immediately.

"_Disgusting,_' he hissed.

Harry, chin leaning on his hand, gave the snake a lazy grin.

"It's their weakest one," Tom mused. "Any others would prevent us from walking back to the castle in conscious state."

"Well, it's vile. We need an in-between."

"Harry seems to like it," Tom pointed out.

"Thirsty," Harry explained.

"They must have something else," Dorian insisted. "I'm going to take a look."

That left Harry with Tom, who moved to sit as close as possible so that their thighs were pressed together. Harry scowled at him.

Tom smiled. "You will realise how much you like me when you've had a few drinks."

Harry laughed. "Is that your plan in bringing me here? To get me drunk?"

"Well, no. I don't need you to be inebriated to get want I want. But if it will make you loosen up a notch…"

"Look, I'm sure Dorian will be more than willing to...to assist you with your bodily needs."

Tom gave a shrug. "Perhaps, but I'd rather try something new."

"Then try this!" Dorian said on arrival, placing glasses of dark liquid on in front of Harry and Tom. "It's the next one along."

Harry took a tentative sip, and grimaced. "It's what I imagine soot to taste like."

Dorian frowned and slid in beside Harry on the curvy bench. "It can't be that bad."

"Liquorice," Tom murmured on drinking his. Harry frowned.

Dorian tried it. He shuddered. "Strawberry. Disgusting. You'd think it would taste vaguely nice…"

Harry snickered. "No use taking it back."

A while later, empty glasses of Butterbeer and whatever it was that Dorian had bought littered the table.

Harry was busy contemplating a visit to the Men's room while Dorian ordered more drinks. He was on the verge of forgetting Chris and having a ridiculously good time with what he considered to be two evil Slytherin perverts, when he felt Tom's hand on his thigh and reality came crashing back.

"Get lost," he demanded, moving along.

He received a smirk. Tom moved along with him. "I've lately decided that you're not very nice," the Slytherin said.

Harry grinned. Dorian returned and stared down at the very small space left for him at the end of a bench. He looked at where Harry and Tom appeared to be glued together. With a dramatic sigh he rounded the table and sat on Tom's side.

"Drama queen," Harry accused, taking his drink.

"Princess, I would say," Tom murmured, sipping his.

Dorian scowled. "I despise both of you. I hope you realise this."

"Mmhmm," Harry said, feeling Anton wrap around his neck. He was beginning to feel slightly dizzy. Maybe it was time to approach the toilets.

The Men's turned out to be dirty and unaccommodating, and he stood there wondering whether to go any further, grasping his head when it began to ache, when arms slid around his waist from behind.

"Go 'way," he ordered, doing nothing to push the boy away. Tom just smiled against his neck.

"Make me," he said, nipping at Harry's earlobe.

Harry scowled. He knew he wouldn't be able to make Tom do anything. Tom was Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort was, well, scary. Being slightly drunk simplified things a lot more, Harry realised.

"It's not fair," he said aloud to himself, staring intently at the tiled floor. They really ought to clean it, he decided.

Tom made an agreeable sound, and turned Harry around. "You are delightful like this," he commented, pushing Harry against the wall. "Remind me to bring you here more often."

Harry frowned. "Not here? It's dirty."

"Mmm, true. A bed would be more suitable."

"I don't want you in my bed. You're evil."

"You're welcome to stay in mine."

Harry considered it. Would sleeping in Tom's bed make him evil? "Maybe," he said, unsure.

For a few moments he accepted Tom's kisses, and then decided that he wasn't so drunk that he would get off with him _here_ of all places.

They returned to find that Dorian had abandoned the table in favour of flirting with the barman.

"Fetch him, Harry," Tom said with a sigh.

Harry did so without a thought.

"Time to leave?" Dorian said, smoothing down his shirt.

"Drank too much," Harry muttered.

"Fine, but let's not bump into Bulstrode's group unless you want to get caught up in nonsensical gossip for hours on end."

They spent the next few hours meandering around Hogsmeade, working off the affects of the alcohol and discussing topics at random.

At one point they passed the place where Harry had once met Sirius – except there was no stile, just a ditch. It gave him a painful pang and he looked away, wondering if fate would ever let him see his Godfather again.

In the end they headed back to the castle to get changed. They had a party to attend.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry had little time to protest when a drink was shoved into his hand and he was firmly manoeuvred by Dorian to dark empty corner.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, nose wrinkling at the strong smell of the beverage.

"Just stay there for a minute," Dorian ordered absently, staring out into the crowd of Slug clubbers in what was probably an attempt to find Tom.

Harry sighed and leant against the wall, swirling the drink in the glass. "What is this?" he said somewhat moodily, frowning down at the unlikely colour.

"It's wine," Dorian sighed.

"But it's _green_."

"I never knew you were so judgemental. Ah, here we are."

Tom had been located.

Harry watched as Dorian approached the heir of Slytherin and conversed with him quickly in hushed whispers.

He frowned, wondering if this had something to do with Chris, who was, as far as he was concerned, still suspiciously absent. How funny it was, he thought, that he was so unlucky as to have been included in a party of marginally Dark wizards and witches in a time when Grindelwald, rather than Voldemort, was at his worst.

Giving in to the prickly sensation of being stared at, Harry looked up to discover Tom evaluating him intently. The boy came forward as their eyes met, a devious smile forming on his face.

"You look nice," he murmured, tracing the collar of Harry's, or Dorian's, shirt.

Harry fought back a blush, mentally stabbing himself for feeling like an adolescent schoolgirl. "It's Dorian's fault," he accused.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Dorian complained, stealing the drink from Harry's hand.

"Don't tell me you're going to drink that," Harry said, eyeing the green liquid in the glass.

Dorian frowned at him. "It's wine," he repeated.

Harry stared at him in despair. "But it's-"

"Rosier!" interrupted a screech, the owner of which turned out to be Bulstrode. "Where did you get that wine?"

Dorian eyed her suspiciously. "Why are you asking me? I saw you with some earlier.."

Tom was suddenly preoccupied with something else and Harry took that as his cue to escape.

He managed to ask everyone he encountered but no one appeared to have seen or heard of Chris since the day before.

An hour of wandering around sipping green wine passed and Harry was beginning to feel fed up and dizzy. Where was Chris? Why was he gone? Why had no one seen him? And why hadn't Tom or Dorian come to bother Harry in the past hour?

The hall seemed to have expanded and now contained the entire club, with green alcohol and music to 'liven it up', as Dorian put it.

Harry downed another glass of green and then decided that he had definitely had too much to drink. He leant against the cool wall with a sigh, wondering when he would be permitted to leave. A girl standing to his right was watching him interestedly. On seeing him stare at her she moved nearer.

"Hi," she said.

Harry managed a noncommittal grunt.

"We haven't met, have we? I'm Meredith. You're Harry, aren't you?"

"I need to sit down," Harry told her, feeling a headache coming on.

"Yes, yes, of course. Let's sit here."

She took his hand and they sat at the nearest table, a huge nearby pillar putting the dancing out of view.

Harry sighed his relief.

"It's getting hot in here, isn't it?" Meredith was saying, not removing her eyes from Harry's face.

"Yes, very," he muttered.

"I hope we can be friends. Don't you?"

Her chair inched closer and Harry grew to be alarmed.

"I have too many friends," he said unapologetically, turning his empty glass upside down in a mixture of boredom and frustration.

She frowned, apparently forcing herself to misunderstand him. "So have I," she insisted abruptly. "I'm sure we have a _lot_ in common, though. We're both in the club, after all."

"We are?"

She laughed. "Of course we are, we're here, aren't we?"

"No." Harry rose, located the bar, and headed towards it. If he was going to have to endure several more hours of this insanity, he'd rather do it unconsciously.

About twenty minutes later, Harry was back at the table which Meredith had thankfully abandoned. His headache came back full force and he blacked out. When he awoke, Cedrella was leaning over him with a glass of something undistinguishable. Without comment he drank it obediently and staggered to his feet.

She only frowned and took back the empty glass, watching as he staggered away.

Harry was about to seek out the toilets when his arm was taken a firm hold of and he found himself among Tom's group.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" Tom said, slipping his arm around Harry's waist.

"Wonderful," Harry managed, almost giving in to the urge to flatten his fringe over his scar because of the intensity of the Slytherins stares.

Tom introduced his friends, and Harry vaguely recalled conversing with them. He found himself isolated with Tom, and wished he was back in the future with Ron and Hermione.

"What is it?" Tom said quietly, brushing Harry's hair behind his left ear, the other arm pulling them flush against each other.

"Headache, s'all," Harry murmured, closing his eyes.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No. S'green."

Tom smirked. "Yes, it is," he said agreeably. "Would you like some water?"

"Um…No."

"Harry." Dorian appeared carrying two drinks. "Here, have this." One was shoved into Harry's hand.

Harry frowned at the drink. He wished it away. It vanished with a small _pop_. Harry smiled. Then the headache returned full force and he decided he had been here long enough. He proceeded to stagger out of the hall, down the corridor and into the nearest classroom, where the silence was glorious to him.

He leant against a desk, and was too drunk to jump when arms wrapped around his waist.

"Are you drunk, Harry?" Tom's amused voice broke through Harry's hazy mind. He had obviously been followed.

Turning his head, Harry could perceive Dorian entering with a bottle. He sighed. "Go away?" he asked them both.

Dorian snickered. "No?" he said.

Harry frowned at the floor. Tom pushed his chin up and kissed him. Then Tom was gone, and Dorian was there.

"How are you doing, Harry?" he said.

Harry released an almost hysterical laugh. Dorian's smirk was blurry and distant.

Right, Harry thought. If he couldn't have Chris, he'd have his only other friend. "Where's Anton?" he demanded, then received a kiss in reply.

"He's in my room," Tom said from behind.

"Oh." Harry was in a dream, his vision blurred as he was gently but firmly pushed onto his back on the desk and his shirt pulled off.

When he opened his eyes, he stared into Tom's dark intent eyes directly above him.

Kisses followed, accompanied by groping and rubbing, until Tom moved away and Harry was pulled, swaying, onto his feet.

Minutes seemed to pass like centuries; everything for Harry was a blur, especially since his glasses had been tugged off. And then vanished the rest of his clothes and he was with the two people he liked and hated most. But that didn't make sense, and Harry didn't want it to.

Then, to his immense relief, everything slowly went black.

The party had dimmed down a bit. It was early morning, and Dorian was satisfied in more ways than one. Edging around the numerous that littered the hall, he approached Tom.

"How is he?" Tom said quietly, turning to face him.

"Sleeping. What about-"

"Not here. I have had enough of this party. I'm sure you have no qualms about leaving?" he asked, even as Dorian followed him out of the room.

"It is tiresome."

"Yes."

They walked to the common room in silence, the quiet in the corridors cloaking them.

It was empty inside.

"What have you done to him, exactly?" Dorian said finally, unable to restrain his curiosity.

Tom looked at him with a smile. He sat down. "I simply modified his memory."

"Oh?" Dorian smirked, sprawling on the floor. The effects of the alcohol were finally wearing off.

"He has never met Harry."

"Very clever. And how is Harry going to react to that?"

Tom shrugged and looked into the fire. "He will be angry. But only for a while." He smiled to himself.

"You're still going to go through with the…"

He received an intense stare. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It just appears to be having some unpredictable side-affects, is all."

"Yes, but thankfully they are not severe."

"He's fainting all over the place."

"The potion is working, however."

Dorian sighed. "I wish you weren't so sure of yourself."

Tom smirked at him. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"He is going to have an enormous headache, in the morning," Dorian mused.

"What do you care?"

Dorian smiled and moved closer. "I rather like him, unlike you."

"Did I ever say I didn't like him?"

Dorian knelt between the boy's legs and rested his hands on Tom's knees. He smiled.

"Surely you don't like him more than me?"

Tom smirked in answer.

"Don't make me jealous."

"You'll have to show me first how much _you_ like _me_." Tom's knees fell apart.

Dorian smiled and showed him.


End file.
